


a rose, by any other name

by flying_elliska



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Asshole Lucas, BAMF Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Background Basile/Daphné, Background Sofimane, Banter, Bodyguard Eliott, Boss/Employee Relationship, CEO Lucas, Divine Soulmates, Emotional Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers, Exorcist Eliott, Flirting, Ghosts, Hades!Eliott, Hades/Persephone AU, Lucas & Imane brotp, Lucas/Others (brief), M/M, Mythology - Freeform, One Night Stand, Persephone!Lucas, Plot Twists, Religious Fanaticism, Revolting against fate, Running from destiny, Secret Identity, Sexual Tension, Smut, Supernatural Elements, Sweet Hades (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Witch!Alexia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 151,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24165757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_elliska/pseuds/flying_elliska
Summary: Eliott Demaury has been on the run for the past eight years of his life, but he's tired of running.He lives in a world where Gods take human vessels, and on his eighteen birthday, he was marked to be the reincarnation of Hades, God of the Dead. His mother, foreseeing what a terrible toll it would take on her son to have to live in the Underworld for the rest of his life, a place without sunlight or change, sacrificed himself to hide his powers from the Fates, the terrifying entities who handle all the Gods' business on Earth.  Before dying she told him one thing : don't look for your Persephone, because once you find her, you will not be able to resist your calling.And ever since then, he's been working as a lowly exorcist, casting out the restless dead instead of guiding them. But this loneliness is, well, killing him. So he decides to take a job in New Athens, in the anonymity of the big city, for a rich CEO  who has a ghost problem.He tells himself that one night at a club can't hurt that much, right ? And after that he will be too busy, anyway...He should have known. Fate always finds a way.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 401
Kudos: 556





	1. Prologue - Eliott

**Author's Note:**

> Eliott x Lucas, modern greek gods AU, Hades & Persephone, bodyguard/boss relationship, magic, emotional slow burn, shy brooding Eliott, bitchy bossy Lucas
> 
> In the style of the Wicked & the Divine (without music), in this world, the Gods are more functions than actual entities. When they turn 18, some humans are chosen as living reincarnations of divine energies - from local spirits all the way up to the most powerful in the old Pantheons. After they accept the call, and are connected to their archetypal power through a sacred ritual, they go on to fulfill their fated duties the best they can, guided by the three everlasting Moirai - the Fates - and their agents. 
> 
> Hades and Persephone, Lord of the Underworld and Maiden of Spring, are two of the most important functions among these, as they command the turn of the seasons and the passage from life to death. Those chosen to fulfill their roles will always be linked, for better or worse, as they need each other to balance their respective energies - life and death, growth and decay, dissolution and rebirth. One cannot live without the other. 
> 
> But the balance has been broken, and the world now finds itself in dire straits. 
> 
> When the last Hadès expired, his chosen successor vanished into thin air instead of accepting his calling. And ever since, the undead have been restless and the realms of men have gone years without a real winter - and his Persephone, still, waits…
> 
> Fate will not be denied forever...
> 
> ...
> 
> Ok so this is going to be a fun, fast AU I have been working on for a while, I already have three chapters written and I am going to try and update regularly (at least every week). I hope you like it, and please tell me what you think ! I thrive on feedback (and write faster haha) <3  
> Fair warning, Lucas is a huge asshole in the beginning of this, but don't worry, he'll get better.  
> Also this chapter contains vague smut already (from 'he lets the man take him home' to 'he wakes up..')

_Prologue - Eliott_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


This is a bad idea. All of it. Eliott knows that.

  
  


Leaving the relative safety of the itinerant life he’s led ever since he turned eighteen and everything changed. Coming to New Athens - one of the biggest cities in the world, and the center of all _Theoi_ matters. Accepting a job at a big firm, where he will be in the spotlight - as the CEO’s bodyguard, no less, supposed to protect him from _hauntings_. 

  
  


It’s very ironic, when you think about it, that he would be the one protecting people _against_ the dead. 

But ever since his mother sacrificed herself to place that spell on him, the one that hides his divine calling - all the magic he can manage to do is the work of a low grade exorcist and spirit-worker. It’s dreary work, and everytime he expels the restless dead from this plane he can feel the spirits yearning for his presence, his guidance. He should be the one receiving them in the afterlife. But instead he is just sending them down into the dark and cold, alone. As time wears on, the guiltier he feels about it. 

  
  


But Eliott’s love for the realm of the living has always been the truest part of his personality. 

  
  


So, the day he learned of his destiny, he just ran. He ran and he ran and he ran. Trying to avoid the Fates and their agents, who would want to bring him back to their temple, dissolve his mother’s spell, so he could finally accept his duty. And letting the world spin loose in the meantime. Maybe he was selfish, but the truth is, he knew right from the start he could never fulfill his role properly. His secret hope had been that fate would just get tired of chasing him and simply name another one in his place. 

After eight years of running, though, of small jobs and sleeping in barns on piles of wet hay and living as an outcast...he can't do it anymore. 

...

So now he’s here, in the city.

And more precisely, in this tightly packed club in the seediest part of town. The place is called Styx, after the river that separates Earth from the Underworld, and well...it’s what drew him here. Maybe he’s flirting with danger, alright. 

He doesn’t think he’s at risk here, though. The club is full of illegal magic. Nymphs with flowers in their hair that go from bud to full blossom to fruit and seed again under the eyes of onlookers. Maenads with their eyes still full of dancing chaos and lips stained with maddening wine ; griffins and harpies without their mandatory camouflage charms, wings and feathers in full sight ; witches peddling their wares...nobody will care that his aura is slightly troubled. Seers tend to flee places as tightly packed as these, anyway. 

The floor of the club has been enchanted to make it look as if everyone is wading, to their waist, through a stream of dark fog that moves like water to the beat of the music, and the low ceiling is smoldering as if made of embers, casting a golden glow on everybody's faces. The heavy rhythm of the base is thundering through his bones, and makes him want to lose himself to it. People brush against him, cloth against the skin of his bare arms, fleeting inklings of warmth that make him shiver. He wants to chase after them, he wants to curl into a ball.

He feels so overwhelmed for a moment. Can they all tell he's come straight from a backwards village, smell the mud and manure on him ? What was the last time he was around this many people ? Back when he was still in high school, he went out a few times, tentatively wading into the nightlife of his smaller home city, but since coming of age, he’s mostly lived in small villages, and never long enough to settle. Even when he was invited to fairs and celebrations he was always the one on the margins, smelling of death, mistrusted even if respected. 

A voice tells him he should leave, hide like he's done all his life. But why should he ?

It’s so unfair, that burden he's been given. He’s always been a lover of life. Ever since he was a kid, he could spend hours in nature, watching things grow and flowers blossoming, observing the animals, finding entire stories in the clouds, whispering to the stars. Building cabins in the woods, harvesting berries. Observing people, too. Listen to their little tales of joys and sorrows. He remembers feeling so intensely alive, everyday a treasure trove of intense details to cherish. He remembers, most of all, being in love with the idea of love, and how it would reveal to him a whole new dimension of being alive. 

Why did he, of all people, have to be chosen as the new reincarnation of the God of Death ? Chosen to lead a cold life of banishment, to a realm where nothing grows and nothing changes ?

When his powers made themselves known the day of his 18th birthday, accompanied by all the appropriate omens, he can still remember the terror on his mother’s face. _Not you,_ she said, _not like this._ So she did what she could do, like the powerful sorceress that she was. And she left him a list of instructions. _Keep a low profile. Never stay in one place for too long. Avoid people with the Sight, as they might detect that your true nature is hidden._

_And most of all - do not follow your heart, for it will lead you to your Persephone, and you will never be able to resist the call, then._

He’s lived by those rules for the past eight years. But he is so goddamn tired of running. He needs...he needs human warmth. Otherwise why is he even hiding for, if his life has to resemble a living death? At the last turn of the moon, he found himself in one of the darkest moods he’d ever been in, and he’d known that if he didn’t change his life, he might not survive the loneliness.

And so, now, here he is. 

Dancing. Making an attempt at life, again, even though it goes against his destiny. He feels his movements are cramped, awkward, and all his alert systems are going haywire, but he breathes and lets the music wash over him, the warmth of bodies around him, and slowly he feels the worst of the chill in his bones start to melt away. 

Maybe it won’t be too bad. The city is full of magic users. Maybe here, it will be much easier to remain anonymous. Maybe he’ll even manage to have something like a normal life. He just has to stay away from any sweet tempered young women with flowers growing from under her feet. 

And nobody is throwing him dirty or scared looks. Most people are ignoring him. A few are throwing interested looks his way, even. A red headed woman with sparks in her eyes, a man with a chest full of fur, a person of indeterminate gender with long, flowing purple hair and little horns. But he’s not really come here to meet anyone. Just here to dance a little bit, enjoy the presence of other humans around him, and then go home to his newly rented dingy little flat. Enough to make him feel alive again, but he can't indulge. After all, he starts with his new job tomorrow, he needs to be fresh. 

...

He’s holding all these very reasonable considerations in his mind, and decides to get himself one last drink. 

But when he turns to the bar, a stranger catches his eye. His heart jumps in his chest, taken by surprise.

This one - well, it leaves him everything but indifferent. All his best resolutions evaporate, for an instant.

  
  


The man is beautiful in a sharp, merciless way that twists something deep in Eliott’s gut. He has an elegant face with delicate features, but his blue eyes burn with intention. No trace of magic or supernatural capacities, and yet there is something extraordinary about him, as if his face captures the light, and people naturally part to let him pass anywhere he goes. 

  
  
  


And he’s looking at Eliott like he wants to eat him. Shameless. 

Eliott swallows and continues on his way to the bar. There is a line, and he’s got trouble attracting the barman’s attention. He's got to work tomorrow. He's got to be careful, he reminds himself. He doesn't know anyone here. He shouldn't be foolish. He tries to set the blue eyes out of his mind. He focuses on the details around him, the sweat of people standing next to him, the noise, the dancing, but it makes him woozy. 

Then he feels a slight press along his elbow, and before he knows what is happening, the beautiful stranger is at his side. He makes a gesture to the barman, who immediately turns towards him. 

“Hey Joe, give some attention to my friend here, will you ?” 

The barman, Joe, who is wearing a garland of wine leaves on his head, immediately lets go of the cocktail he was in the middle of preparing, and looks at Eliott, suddenly all solicitous. 

“What will it be for you, sir ?”

Eliott swallows. 

“Uh, just beer will be fine. Um, from the tap, half pint of white?” 

The guy next to him chuckles. “Sure you don’t want anything more expensive? It’s on me.” He’s still devouring Eliott with his eyes.

Eliott flounders. He’s not used to this sort of attention. 

“Well, I’ll take a Lethe’s Caress, please,” the stranger asks the barman, then to Eliott, “I highly recommend it, it’s their best cocktail. Makes your night either unforgettable or totally forgotten the next day depending on what you want more.” Then he winks. 

Oh, what the hell. 

Sure, there is something a bit...obnoxious about this guy. The more he looks at the stranger, the more Eliott can see he’s definitely the type to flaunt his money - expensive watch, designer suit - and treat people like potential conquests. 

But...Eliott’s so lonely. He hasn’t shared anyone’s bed in many many months. Tomorrow he will have to be entirely devoted to his new boss, he probably won’t have any time to himself. What’s one fun little tryst to relieve the pressure ? Didn’t he promise himself he was going to live his life fully now ? Being cautious has brought him nothing but darkness. He wants to be wild, for just an instant, and live whatever life he can manage to steal from the jaws of the inevitable. 

So, he accepts the guy’s invitation.

And when the cocktails are served, he accompanies the guy to his private table. A little nest of black velvet away from the crowd, surrounded by mist and floating embers. Lethe’s Caress floats in their glasses, milky and evanescent, and tastes sweet, but packs one hell of a kick. 

“So, you’re new in town, huh ?” the stranger asks, reclining in his chair, eyes half closed, sipping from his drink. Eliott can’t help but notice the way it wets his plush lips, and the way he takes his time to enjoy the taste. 

“Am I that obvious ?” 

“Yes you are. Like a lost little lamb, all ready to be gobbled up.”

Eliott blushes and bites his lip. The stranger laughs, and Eliott feels something heady zing through his veins. It makes him want to be reckless. 

“And you’re the big bad wolf ?”

“Yeah, maybe I am.”

As the evening goes on, Eliott becomes increasingly certain of two things : one, this man is sort of an arrogant asshole, and two, Eliott is really, really into him. 

Well, at least he’s no flower goddess, that’s for sure. 

…

  
  
  


He lets the man take him home, to an extremely fancy penthouse in the heart of the city, all glass and metal, and the door has barely closed behind them that they are already ripping each other’s clothes off. 

They are both hungry and artless - too hungry, too intense, Eliott will think later, for what should happen between two strangers, a drifter and a playboy having a simple physical connection. But for now he allows himself to get lost in the thrill of it all.

The stranger first backs him up against his kitchen counter, kneels in front of him and brings him to the very edge of pleasure with his skilled mouth before leading him to his bed. There, he presses Eliott into his expensive, silky sheets, lets him watch how he fingers himself open, then sinks down on him. He sets a heady rhythm, riding him like his life depends on it, and it’s good, so good, much better than it has any right to be. It’s the sort of thing Eliott knows he could get addicted to, and he knows the stranger likes it too, because his enthusiasm is ill befitting of a player just going through a one night stand. He’s demanding and giving at the same time, making sure they both get their fill in exactly the right way, playful and almost tender, until Eliott’s body becomes a riot of sensations and he loses himself completely, forgetting everything that weighs on him for a few blessed moments. 

They go at it until they are both sore and exhausted out of their minds and the sun makes a red line on the horizon, staining the entire place gold.

Eliott drifts into sleep without meaning to. He wanted to go to his flat, he didn’t want to make this awkward in the morning...but he’s helpess against the tide pulling him under. 

…

When he wakes up, the world is a grey haze, broken through by bright splashes of color, and as he blinks, his sight becomes clear and he witnesses the sight in front of him, and his heart stops. 

The stranger is sleeping, and like this, he looks almost soft - eyelids fluttering, mouth ajar, cheeks still flushed and hair mussed. He looks less like an asshole and more like a guy Eliott might want to get to know. 

But he doesn’t, oh no, he doesn’t. 

Around the stranger’s head and all along the outline of his body, sprouted directly through the sheets and unmistakably vibrant with the simmering glow of true magic, appeared during the night - flowers. Flowers, _everywhere_. Their sweet, fresh scent invades the room, and Eliott’s nostrils. Daffodils, tulips, narcisses, primroses, violets, hyacinths, crocuses…

...all the flowers of spring. 

He feels a profound tremor run all through his body, awe, panic, terror mixed with inexplicable joy. 

Oh, he is so stupid. 

So the God of Death reincarnates in a naive young man with the soul of a poet who lives for the beauty of nature and living things, and the Goddess of Spring in a young wolf with a soul of metal who wants to eat the world. So fate hides where it needs to, and always pounces on them in the instant they expect it the least. 

  
  


_Run and hide_ , Eliott, _run and hide_ , his mother whispers in his ear. And he does. But this time, he knows. It's no use.

Fate found him. And it will again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap !


	2. Chapter 1 - Lucas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Lucas Lallemant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I did warn you that Lucas was going to be an asshole in this one so I hope you'll be patient with him as he grows   
>  and blossoms into a beautiful flower (he'll always be spiky though ahah) ^^
> 
> Also, forgot to mention that this a very creative, loose interpretation of the myths, so like, if you are very keen on exactitude in these matters, might not be the fic for you lmao
> 
> I hope you enjoy ! 
> 
> Content warning : spoooooky smelly ghoooosts

_ Chapter 1 - Lucas  _

Lucas Lallemant is having an... interesting morning. In the worst possible sense of the word. 

  
  
  
  


He’s trying very hard to keep his volatile temper from reaching a boiling point, but...the universe seems to be conspiring against him, right now. 

  
  
  
...  
  
  
  
  


It started when he woke up covered in fucking flowers. 

  
  
  


And that's not a thing that just  _ happens _ to him anymore. He doesn't spontaneously burst into flowers like that, he's learned to control it. It’s just not a thing he does. He's not some gangly teen going through magically induced second puberty anymore. He's a grown ass man.

  
  


It’s embarrassing, is what it is. 

  
  


That's probably what sent his one night stand running for the door too, before Lucas had the time to ask for his number. A shame, quite frankly. He is not usually the type to do repeats, but that one? Firecracker. Gorgeous eyes, legs for days, a big dick and obviously willing to take whatever Lucas was dishing out. Would have made a great reserve booty call for at least a few more rounds, before Lucas got bored or the guy got a bit too attached. But no, Lucas's powers had to go haywire like that, scaring the guy off. 

A lot of people flat out refuse to get involved with anyone touched by the Gods, either because they’re intimidated, frightened or think it’s more trouble than it’s worth. He hates very little more than having that happen to him - being treated like an inconvenience, a liability, an oddity. Even now that he has achieved so much in his life, and that he is able to filter his social interactions quite strictly, he can’t entirely avoid it. Otherwise he would have to become a monk. 

He finds his own behavior disturbing as well, this time, to be frank. The sex was really good, intense, leaving him breathless and dizzy in a way that rarely happens - but his bed is witness to a parade of strangers every week, many of them very capable - Lucas has always prided himself on his ability to discern talent, in business as in this. So why this time in particular?

  
  


At the very least he should have been the one to kick the guy out. He's not the one that gets left. He is the one who does the leaving.

  
  
  


...

And now this.

  
  


_This_ , at first, was supposed to be a meeting with his board of directors and investors about some very important changes in strategy that might be tough to swallow for some. He needed a peaceful, controlled environment where he could soothe potentially bruised egos over and guide them gently to accept his vision of the future - even if he had to twist some elbows and apply pressure later. It’s always better to start with the carrot.

Instead the room has been thrown into chaos : the big table thrown over and used as a shield by terrified men and women in fancy suits, pretty much the opposite of soothed, chairs piled haphazardly around it, to avoid the unrest on the other side of the room. 

A gaggle of growing, wailing, shivering ghosts. Some of them look like screaming children, others like rotting corpses, a lot of them still half-unformed, all part of the same mass of silvery ghostly matter. Truly a revolting sight. He can smell them from here, too, a cacophony of discordant smells, sulfur and rotting meat and melting plastic. 

  
  


And they are here for him.

  
  


Fuck, he really hopes the next exorcist they hired is competent this time, because this bullshit cannot go on. 

  
  


This is the kind of shit that can completely wreck a bottom line. 

  
  


...

  
  


Most of the apparitions that have come to him so far haven't been able to actually harm him or have any impact on matter at all ; but they're growing in strength and number each time. One of these days, he won't be so lucky. And in the meantime, it is totally ruining both his social and professional life.

The most annoying thing is that, technically, they're not even here for _him_ , but for his fate-appointed consort. Or at least, that’s the logical explanation. Fucking Hades, His Holy Fucking Lordship of the Underworld, who is supposed to keep the dead where they belong. But since Lucas's Hades disappeared into thin air right after his incarnation, two years after Lucas's own, these undead fuckers come at him instead. As if he could do something about it. What is he supposed to do, wave flowers at them ? Redo the floral arrangements for their funerals ? Shove a daffodil up their undead nostrils so they stop stinking up the place so much ? 

Alright, technically, maybe he could. He's probably the one who could most easily find Hades if he tried to, or so the Fates told him. If he tried to 'follow his divine heart' or some other wishy-washy bullshit. 

But even if he had the time to put a blindfold on and let his heart guide him through the country, wandering around like a desperate moron until he bumped into the guy...he doesn't fucking want to.  Hades fucking off and leaving all his responsibilities behind is one of the best things that could have happened to him. 

Did it sting a bit in the beginning? Yes, especially since he is no stranger to people leaving him behind.

But the truth is, he has always hated this fate crap. The idea of being magically tied to someone because "fate said so", of being reduced to a corny archetype, of having his whole life planned out and mapped for him, is just revolting to him.

It was bad enough to be chosen as Persephone already. When it happened, he'd been a scared teen, with a dad who already resented him for being, in his words, a "pansy". He'd been constantly struggling to hide his sexuality from his rather conservative environment, intolerant of anyone straying from the norm.

And then he'd been chosen as a fucking  _ flower goddess _ . It had been horrible, in the beginning. The Persephone role is usually bestowed on a woman, and not a badass warlike strategist like the Athenas or a free-spirited wildling like the Artemises - she is supposed to be meek, sweet, passive, until she meets her husband and transforms. Even then, incarnations across gender lines tend to be considered an ill omen.  Honestly, at first, he thought it was a joke. The ritual to anchor his powers had been extremely humiliating, forcing him to wear a dress and a massive flower crown and already extolling his role as a “docile bride and fallow field for the Lord of Plenty to sow his seed in” (those fuckers really like their florid metaphors, do they). For his father, who already hated magic and everything to do with the Gods, it had been the last straw. He just left, leaving Lucas to fend for himself.

Lucas could have caved in. Given in to the Fates and let them organize his life for him, into a parade of lame-ass public appearances and symbolic rituals and blessing babies and trees and whatever. But he'd said fuck that.

Instead he'd made his own fate.

He'd wanted to prove that Persephone didn't have to wait for her Hades to be great. That he didn't have to just change his entire personality just because of some divine edict. He had worked his ass off. Toughened up. And then he had discovered that Persephone's powers - spring, renewal, beginnings - extended way beyond manifesting little flowers. He'd sharpened his focus and came away with an almost supernatural intuition and capacity to nurture new projects to full bloom.

Today, at 28, he's the youngest CEO on Forbes's top 100 list, one of the most respected venture capitalists in the business, and worth a neat 23.4 billion. He's the figurehead for a whole new generation, proving you don't have to just sit there and take what higher powers push on you. If you are given powers, you don't owe anything to anyone. You can make your own way, and use them to guide you to the very top.

Of course a lot of traditionalists worked themselves into a frothy rage over his choices, and ever since then, have been hungering for his downfall. Sometimes, he wonders if they sent him the ghosts. And it's only a matter of time before the press catches wind of this, and then he can already see the headlines. “ _ Heartless Persephony -  _ the tabloid press’s favorite name for him _ \- ignores the desperate dead ! Only money money money!" _

  
  


This is why he needs a decent fucking exorcist, immediately.

If he has to appear like a power hungry asshole - which, arguably, he is - he’d at least like the opportunity to write his own tagline. 

  
  


…

  
  
  


He cancels the meeting, corralling everyone out of the room and telling them to come back tomorrow, in as controlled and soothing a tone as possible.  _ Nothing to worry about it, this is just what the high powered godling life is like. Isn’t this fun ? Aren’t you glad you’re in the presence of divinity ? Doesn’t this fragrant smell of fresh corpse bright and early in the morning make you feel ever so blessed ?  _

He goes to wait in his office. The new guy is supposed to get in at eleven. He's had no hand whatsoever in hiring him but his head of human resources had assured him that this guy was the  _ real deal. _ He hopes that's her words and not those of the guy she hired because that sounds like a bad pickup line. He would know. He's used a lot of them.

The guy's probably a bit rustic, from what he's heard of his background, spending all that time in backward villages exorcising goats or whatever. Lucas might have to spruce him up a bit. If he is to shadow Lucas, he has to look good. But Lucas is desperate - as long as he does the job, he doesn't care about the rest. As long as he doesn’t  _ smell _ like goat as well. 

In the meantime he takes care of his favorite plants. His office is a nod to his first business. He started selling flower bouquets on the side of the road. And because, of course, everyone wanted flowers blessed by Persephone, in a few years, he’d transformed from a poor roadside seller to the biggest supplier of flowers in the land. After a while he didn’t even have to grow or bless the flowers himself anymore, he just walked in the glasshouses for a while, and his mastery over his powers had grown enough he would just be able to imbue them with his powers at a distance. 

Of course, keepers of religious traditions had cried scandal. But Lucas didn’t see where the problem was. People who bought his flowers into their homes genuinely reported feeling more lucky, peaceful, joyful, and healthy. In that deal, everyone was a winner. 

He’d become a millionaire just before his 21st birthday, and from there, he’d been able to start investing and grew an outright empire. 

He wasn’t nostalgic for the past, not at all. But he liked having plants around him, so he’d turned his office into a gigantic greenhouse. One part of it was a rocky wall, covered in ferns and moss and orchids. There was a line of banana and avocado trees in the back, along with peach trees and grapes, all bearing a mix of fruits and flowers. It was a good way to impress potential partners, and a display of his power - that he could make species from different climates prosper at the same time, and be perpetually fruitful. 

Around his desk - a massive outcropping of basalt, only the top flattened and polished, incredibly impressive - he’s set his little darlings in high clay pots, his carnivorous plants. Venus flytraps with their teeth, white pitcher plants with their pale flowers run through by red veins,  _ heliamphorae _ dedicated to the sun, droseras carrying dew-like sap on their little antennas, little blue  _ urticulariae _ . And the jewel of his collection, in a massive copper vessel :  _ Nepenthes rajah _ , the king pitcher plant, some of its flowers big as a forearm, scarlet red and gorgeous in the weirdest way possible. Lucas adores these plants, and spends a lot of time talking to them when nobody’s around. He feels they’re a perfect symbol for him : a good way to signal that he’s not just a pretty flower. They evolved to survive in inhospitable land by breaking through the barriers of what plants were supposed to do, and they thrived. They look sort of ugly, but they’re beautiful in their own way. They’re forces of nature. 

  
  


…

  
  


The new guy is late, which doesn’t speak well of his work ethic. Lucas filps through his very sparse resume while waiting. 

Eliott Demaury, no picture, 26, graduated high school but never went to college. Worked odd jobs for most of his life : waiter, agricultural worker, shepherd - how is that still a thing in this day and age - dishwasher, cook - fired after two months -, and a few others before settling as an actual exorcist. Lucas knows how much having your life disturbed by supernatural affairs can suck, but it seems like this guy really wasn’t able to rise above his circumstances. He’s seriously worried about the man’s capacity to fit into Lucas’s high-powered life. He can’t afford to spend his time correcting a country bumpkin’s manners. Especially if he hasn’t heard of the concept of being on time. 

He’s about to call it quits and just tell his HR manager to just fire the guy already and start the recruiting process all over again, when, trailing behind his PA Jeremy in a ruffled ill-fitting second hand suit, in walks the stranger from last night. 

  
  
  


_ Oh hell.  _

  
  


Lucas swallows the barbs he’d already gotten ready. Well, damn. Now that’s a plot twist. This day is just getting weirder and weirder.

  
  
  


The guy looks like  _ he  _ just saw a ghost. He’s gone completely pale, and frozen a few steps into Lucas’s office. 

He can understand. It must suck to discover your future boss is the guy you spend last night fucking with tremendous enthusiasm. At least he does have  _ some _ work ethic, Lucas thinks snidely.

He, however, for a second, feels strangely... thrilled to see him again. Even in his crappy suit, eye bags under his eyes a mile wide, he still looks gorgeous. Those same cutting cheekbones and wide eyes Lucas had seen from a distance in the club and immediately wanted to admire from closer up. That air animating them, somewhere between lost little lamb and feral creature... Lucas can see a little bruise peeking out of his shirt, and he distinctly remembers putting it there. He seems to shrink under Lucas's gaze.

Jeremy, perfectly oblivious to the little drama unfolding between them, gives him a few forms, and then asks, “Shall I make an appointment with the tailor ? Or should we wait out the trial period ?” 

The new recruit stammers. “I, uh...I understand if you don’t...I can just go…” 

“No, you stay.” Lucas says. He puts steel in his voice. He knows that this is probably very stupid, unprofessional and setting himself up for an unhealthy amount of torment - if the guy starts working for him, he can’t touch him again, he’s not that sort of boss. 

But there is just  _ something _ about this man that compels Lucas to keep him close. He absolutely can’t explain it, but he trusts his instincts. They’ve always served him well in the past. 

“Jeremy, we’ll see if Eliott here is fit for the task right away. The meeting room is still sealed off and haunted, right ?” 

Jeremy nods. 

“Alright,” he turns towards Eliott this time, “our morning board meeting was interrupted by some...very troublesome guests. As my exorcist, this is the type of thing you will be faced with, and I have to warn you, this might be a lot more intense than what you usually deal with. You are aware of my nature as the reincarnation of Persephone, right?” Lucas can’t help but put a hint of smugness in his tone. _ That’s right, you walked out on a divine avatar this morning. _

  
  


Eliott nods slightly, still pale and speechless. At the same time, the information doesn't seem to surprise him. Maybe he doesn't realize the extent of what it means. Godly incarnations don't go to backwards villages a lot.

  
  


“So, that’s why I need someone with very high capabilities, because I will be under siege constantly. You have signed non-disclosure agreements, and this is why. These hauntings interrupt my business and are terrible for my public image. If I take you on permanently, you will be responsible for making sure I can live an unhindered life, and be ready to spring into action at any time. For the time being you will have to be at my side 24-7, so I have high requirements for behavior as well. Is that understood ?” 

  
  


His new bodyguard nods again, lips tightly pressed together. 

  
  


Wow, he was a lot more entertaining last night. 

  
  


…

  
  
  


When they arrive to the haunted boardroom, Lucas detects a change in Eliott’s behavior. It isn’t obvious, or anything obnoxious like his last exorcist, who insisted on wearing a ton of amulets and burning foul smelling herbs and speaking in tongues to ‘get himself in the mood’. But he straightens his spine, and his walk becomes more assured. As if he is in his element now. Once they arrive at the door, Eliott stops them, and tells Jeremy to stay behind. Jeremy scoffs but Lucas orders him to do as Eliott says. 

They enter the room and close the door behind them. The ghosts have grown in strength, occupying an entire half of the darkened room now, a milky fog emanating from them. Lucas feels, again, all warmth draw from his veins as the rancid smell fills his nostrils. Fuck, he hates this shit, especially since he's extra sensitive to smell.

But the weirdest thing happens - as they seem to notice Eliott’s presence, they all completely stop moving and making noise, like a group of chided schoolchildren. Paying attention.

Huh. Maybe this guy is the real deal after all. 

Eliott doesn’t flinch like Lucas expects him to. Instead he asks, his voice low, “When did this start happening?” He doesn’t waste time on honorifics, which Lucas is a bit piqued by. 

“You mean, in general ? Or just those?” 

“Both, actually.” 

“Well, those just came in at around 9, spontaneously, but...I’ve been seeing ghosts for quite a while, actually. You must be aware that my godly consort has sort of...Disappeared, I guess. Since it’s all over the news...so I figured maybe they were looking for him instead of me? But they’ve started to really become aggressive just the last few months. Since October, actually.”

Eliott takes in a deep breath. “Fuck.” He swears, which, really, very unprofessional. Then he starts rooting around in his bag, until he produces a small cauldron and a bundle of herbs. 

Awesome, smelly smoke again. That, Lucas is less impressed by. He watches as Eliott kneels in front of the cauldron, puts fire to the dried herbs and the smoke permeates the room. The smoke is heavy and he coughs as it reaches his lungs. “Is there a way we could do without all the accessories ? I don’t really fancy feeling like a slab of salmon to be smoked, you know.” 

“No.” Eliott answers, and leaves it at that. 

“I am really going to need you to step up the manners if you are to follow me around.” Lucas snaps. “If I am to be your boss, you will need to address me with a little more respect.” 

Eliott doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts shaking, fingers first as if plugged into some invisible electrical current, his arms extended forward, and a visceral growl escapes his mouth. It sounds awful, like a wounded animal. And the ghosts start shaking as well, their faces silent masks of agony, the trembling becoming more and more frequent. Then Eliott tips his head backwards, eyes rolling to white in their sockets, and starts chanting, his voice raw and plaintive, words that Lucas doesn’t understand but can recognize as ancient Greek. Then the windows start shaking as well, as if an earthquake was imminent. 

The ghosts start crying again, but now the voices coalesce into a single, solitary one, echoing against the room. Like a distorted baby crying. Eliott’s voice rises above, strained but determined, continuous, as if he is trying to cover the sound. Lucas feels the instinct to put his hands over his ears, because the noise is absolutely terrible, the worst he’s ever heard - but he doesn’t want to appear as a coward. So he keeps his arms to the side of his body and clenches his jaw instead.

Eliott extends his raised palms towards the ghostly mass, trembling and moving slow as if pushing against some invisible force. Lucas can see the herbal smoke working as a sort of forcefield separating them from the ghosts - but suddenly, out of nowhere, all the ghosts throw themselves in their direction, and Lucas scrambles backward in fright. 

Eliott stays where he is, and the ghosts are held back by his presence. 

Then there is a deafening crack, loud like thunder, and the ground splits. From the chasm a darkness comes forth, a formless mass that absorbs all light, and it raises itself out of the earth slowly. It seems as if it is controlled by Eliott’s voice and hands, rising over and around the ghosts and pulling them down into the Earth. Like a net cast over a cloud of butterflies. And as its power diminishes, suddenly, the ghost’s voice becomes more and more human-like, until it really sounds like an infant crying, and it’s enough to even get to Lucas’s icy heart. 

The ghosts are drawn down and down and down, until finally they are absorbed into the ground, and the crack closes, and the lights and warmth return. 

Eliott slouches forward, and catches himself with his hands. 

Wow.

So that is what a real exorcist works like. 

Lucas’s first thought is - that’s _really_ badass. And he's no stranger to regularly telling the most powerful people in the city not to be such whining babies. So he wouldn't say that lightly.

Eliott gets himself upright again. Lucas can see his eyes are red, and he’s holding his hand to his chest as if in pain. 

“Are you alright?” Lucas asks, because contrary to what most people think, he’s not a complete asshole. 

“Yes.” Eliott answers, jaw clenched. “I apologize for my manners, sir.” 

What ? Oh…

Well, Lucas does feel like an idiot now. Exorcism looks like an incredibly intense job, and here he was ranting to the guy about his manners, while he might very well be a career and life saver. He might have to think about upping that paycheck a little now.

“Never mind that.” Lucas smiles. “Congratulations, that was very impressive. You definitely passed the test. Now, how about we get you some new suits, huh ? You need to look the part, if you’re going to be my bodyguard.” 

Eliott nods, but again, he doesn’t look very happy about it. 

“Sir, about last night…”

Lucas sighs. Of course, that had to come up at some point.

“Listen, neither of us knew, alright ? The best we can do is move on now. You don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be perfectly professional, and this won’t affect your job position in any way. As long as you're still interested in working here.” 

“Alright. Good. I am.” Eliott replies, his voice hoarse and shoulders slouching in relief. 

Lucas can’t help but feel a bit...disappointed somehow. But he pushes it down - this is necessary. These circumstances can be very uncomfortable for everyone involved. He’s going to have to forget about last night, because this guy is going to be with him constantly. 

As they walk out of the room, Lucas is invaded by a strange feeling he isn’t familiar with. It takes him a few minutes to distinguish what it is : worry. He sees that Eliott is shaken, and he is just realizing what it means to have someone stand between you and a threat. What will happen if the hauntings keep getting more intense ? It gives a more discernable shape to the price of his avoidance of fate. 

But they’ll be alright, Lucas tells himself. He’ll figure something out. 

If this is fate trying to fuck with him, well, he’ll tell it to go fuck itself right back. Because that’s what he does. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time : Eliott tries to adapt to his new job, and unforeseen circumstances create a bonding opportunity.


	3. Chapitre 2 - Eliott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliott gets to know his new boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this, it was written very quickly, please leave me some feedback about what parts you liked the most and what you thought ! Thank you to everyone who has left comments on the previous chapters <333
> 
> content warnings : non explicit mature content, slight exhibitionism, zombie stuff

Chapter 2 - Eliott 

  
  
  


His Persephone is ...an asshole. 

  
  
  


Eliott doesn’t know if that makes him more or less screwed. He’s heard that not all God-incarnation pairings go well. Sometimes the individuals brought together by fate are simply not compatible - but no matter what, the emotions are intense. If it’s not intense love, it’s intense hate. Right now, he’s more leaning towards the latter, to be honest. 

He should have bolted out the door right after seeing who his new boss was. But there was something about the man’s voice right then, telling him to stay, that he just absolutely could not refuse. 

And then he saw what he’d been dealing with and...he couldn’t leave him to face it alone. Because he’s responsible for this. He’s responsible for the hauntings. It’s him the ghosts are looking for, but they can’t find him because he is still hidden by his mother’s spell. He can’t help but admire Persephone - Lucas Lallemant, his actual name is - his calm in front of a phenomenon that would have reduced most people to complete terror. This is one of the most intense hauntings he’s ever witnessed, and it didn’t happen at the solstice or at midnight or another of those times of power, it happened in a building full of people in broad daylight. 

Then again, maybe the reason why Lallemant isn’t scared is because he seems to be animated by no emotion whatsoever besides anger and entitlement. 

The guy is an absolute jackass. He’s rude, snappy, expects complete devotion and diligence from his people without even barely acknowledging their efforts in return. He gets pissed for the stupidest reasons, has no patience, and acts as if his problems should be everyone’s problems. On top of that, he treats Eliott like an idiot he has to educate. 

Eliott’s only been at his side for a day and he can already tell that working for this man is going to be one hell of an ordeal. Really, whatever entity decided to make them divine consorts has a really, really sick sense of humor.

It doesn't help that Eliott's secret makes him extra clumsy and nervous. Finding that your one night stand is actually your new boss is basic rom-com sort of embarrassing...but adding in that he is supposed to be the gods-mandated love of your life...and that he is, on top of that, incredibly obnoxious…

He can't help but feel like he is being punished for his sins somehow, as Lallemant makes him hold all his files, his iced coffee, a succulent in a pot he absolutely needed to buy from a random vendor in the street (????), his laptop and cell phone...doesn't this guy have a PA already ? Is this why Eliott quit his former job which, even if often miserable, allowed him to actually help people...to be a glorified bag holder ?

Towards the end of the afternoon of his first day on the job, Lallemant takes him to a tailor shop, one of the most luxurious places Eliott has ever set foot in, with crystal chandeliers and creamy white carpet everywhere. Eliott feels like a feral shaggy dog dragging mud in from the outside, and tries to make himself as small and unobtrusive as he can, but Lallemant drags him to the center of the room and orders him to spread his arms and legs so the tailor can take his measurements.

For a brief moment it reminds Eliott of the way he was so directive in bed, and the memory sends an errant spark shamble along his spine. And the way Lucas looks at him as he gets fitted...doesn't help.

"If you are going to be at my side all, I need you to look good. And I mean, you have a lot to work with, under all that dirt...but let's leave the shepherd outfits in the shed, alright sheep-boy ?"

All thoughts of last night shrivel in his head. God, what a fucking asshole. 

Eliott says nothing and clenches his jaw. He can't afford to get fired. Like it or not, this is his responsibility now. So he's just going to have to toughen it out.

…

In the evening, Lallemant introduces him to his new living space. He wasn't kidding when he said 24/7 : the apartment he is shown into is literally the one below Lallemant's fancy penthouse he left in a hurry from this morning. It's a lot smaller and a bit more sparse, but it's still incredibly luxurious : floor to ceiling windows with a view of the city, designer furniture, heated floor, fancy shower with streams coming from every direction, etc. 

"I own the entire building," Lallemant says smugly, "I didn't want too many neighbors. So, we shouldn't be disturbed - unless it's by supernatural elements. That's why I need you on the job on a permanent basis until we can solve this. I will ask you to refrain from bringing in any company. It won't be forever, but I need you available at anytime. It won't be a problem, will it?" He doesn't give Eliott any chance to respond before he continues. "Well, anyway the pay I give you should largely make up for any discomfort. I doubt that a man with your...qualifications could get much better anywhere else."

All the condescending little remarks on his background are starting to get old really quickly, seriously. If Lallemant thinks he can just be an asshole because he's paying him enough money and Eliott is just going to let himself be pushed around, he's got another thing coming.

"Well, I might not have gotten fancy digs out of it, but at least the people I used to help didn't insult my education." He says stiffly and sees Lallemant's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "And ghosts don't care about all this shit that you surround yourself with. So you can be a condescending prick all you want, but one of these days they're gonna catch you unawares, and we'll see if you still want to call me sheep-boy, then." 

Lallemant stares at him for a few minutes, as if he truly doesn't believe that someone could actually be that rude to him. But then he closes his mouth and says acidly,

"I could fire you for this tone."

Eliott shrugs.

"Good luck finding a real exorcist who is willing to put up with your shit."

"I could make sure you never get hired in this town again."

Eliott holds his gaze, unimpressed. Lallemant's steel blue eyes could cut through glass, but when it comes to this, he's not afraid. He would be a poor exorcist if he allowed any creature to walk all over his boundaries. 

"Guess I will just have to crawl back to my countryside bumpkin hole, then." 

The truth is, he doesn't want to leave and go back to his cold, lonely, dreary previous life. But he can't deal with too many days like this one. He's gotta set some limits. Otherwise this is just going to get worse and worse.

"You're very obnoxious, you know that ?" Lallemant says, slightly deflated by his answer. Was he expecting Eliott to grovel or something ? There is something very satisfying about seeing his composure crumble, at least a little.

"Pot, kettle." 

Lallemant huffs.

"Whatever. Just...I synced my calendar to your phone so you know when we have to leave. I expect you to be ready on time, alright? I'll be damned if I have to wait for my goddamn bodyguard." Then he turns on his heels and leaves, making sure the last word is his.

Eliott sighs and sinks into the designer sofa, which is even less comfortable than it looks.

He is lucky enough to have the kind of skills that make him irreplaceable to Lallemant. He can use that as leverage. But...he just doesn't like it when people hate him, like his new boss seems to do for no particular reason. Or maybe he's just so used to treating people the way he wants without consequences he didn't even realize he was being rude. And Eliott isn't sure he wants the role of his brutal awakening. It's not his fault if Lucas seems to think that being a godly avatar gives him the right to treat people like shit. Eliott's entire life has been ruined by this, and he's not behaving like that, so…

Fuck, this job is going to be an ordeal, isn't it. 

  
  


…

  
  
  


The next morning is awkward. Eliott has to get up at five so he can accompany Lallemant on his 5:30 run. He's in good shape, he has to be for his job, but he can't for the life of him figure out why anyone would get up this early to submit themselves to this.

Lallemant is cold but at least he has decided to keep the barbs at a minimum. He just mostly acts as if Eliott wasn't there, and if he has to talk to him he does so in short, clipped words.

It's as pleasant as a bucket of ice water to the face but at least there is less of a risk of being fired for insubordination. 

…

The next few days go through without any big disturbance. He just...follows his boss like is expected of him, and tries not to make any waves. He gets a few comments on his appearance - _isn't he a bit skinny for a bodyguard_ and _is it the scarecrow thing that's supposed to drive people away?_ But he lets Lallemant deflect them with a joke and stays impassible. 

He realizes that his boss's schedule is completely insane. Everyday is stuffed with dozens of meetings on completely different subjects, every minute planned for down to the bathroom breaks. Jeremy the PA keeps running into them to deliver whatever Lallemant needs before his next engagement - a synthesis file to read in the car, a freshly pressed suit, a protein shake he gulps down in place of a proper lunch. It's already exhausting to follow. The man must be some sort of machine, Eliott figures, to be able to do this day in and day out. And he doesn't look tired or in a hassle, managing to meet each new person head on with all the various levels of charm, authority or bullheadedness required. 

Eliott can't help but be admirative, but at the same time...damn, it's so fake. It makes him wonder if then man even has a true self behind all those layers of iron will and control. 

…

On Friday night, he has to accompany Lallemant to a club. It's not the Styx, but another one of those places built by magic. This one is called Tartarus and is decorated accordingly to its hellish inspiration - enchanted lava running through cracks in the walls and floor, gloomy music, chains hanging everywhere. He really can't see the appeal but Lallemant seems at home there, going over to yet another VIP lounge and surveilling the room as he is served a drink without even ordering in a low octagonal glass that seems made of obsidian. Nothing for Eliott this time, but then again, he is working. So he lets it all waft pass him, the smells of cologne and alcohol and sweat, the heavy music, all the emotions and noises of people everywhere. But...it's hard, he's always been overly sensitive. Especially since he can't even move to release it, and he has to keep his professional front up. The irony of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, feeling so ill at ease in a place mimicking his domain isn't lost on him. Another sign he's always be incredibly ill fitted for his calling.

The magic in this club is very different - sharper, hungrier, and it grates at his nerves. He can't help but watch what it does to his boss, the context painfully, familiar, those hungry eyes, his open shirt, the loose demeanour. His hands are so sweaty and he wonders how the hell he is going to keep this up for hours. 

"That redhead over there looks good, what do you think ?" Lallemant drawls, cutting through the awkward silence, pointing vaguely at a muscular man dancing at the back of the room in a very skimpy vest.

What the hell ? Is he asking Eliott for advice on who to pick up ? 

"Sure." Eliott answers, his throat dry. 

"Hmm...that lumberjack's with the beard's been giving me looks for a while, though." He continues, pensive. "Oh what the hell, I've had a long week, I deserve some fun." He says as he drains his glass. Then Eliott watches, incredulously, as he signals for _both_ men to come and join him.

Eliott wonders if he is going to try and select the one he likes the most but it soon becomes clear that Lallemant has no intention of choosing and the men seem to be perfectly happy with that.

Something very weird is happening in his chest, a burning sensation he absolutely refuses to believe is jealousy.

_You just met him. He's your boss and he's a terrible person_ , his common sense echoes in his brain. _He could be banging the entire room and it still shouldn't matter._

_But…my Persephone,_ the beast in his chest growls.

So much for the gentle, demure flower maiden, huh ?

Regardless, he is powerless to do anything about it. So he just watches as Lallemant flirts, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. This is the most real he's seen him in a while, and it inevitably brings him back to the night they met. He's magnetic, like a brand in the half dark, and Eliott can't tear his eyes away. At least he's too busy to notice Eliott is staring.

And for an instant, Eliott finds himself wishing he were the one on the receiving end of that ruthless charm again.

  
  


Fuck. 

  
  


The evening quickly winds down to its natural conclusion and Lallemant brings his two conquests with him to the backseat of his car as Eliott takes the passenger seat. The driver remains stoic throughout the whole transport but Eliott doesn't find it easy to remain as placidly calm as noises start coming from the backseat. He bites on his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

As they emerge on the other end, already disheveled and flushed, Eliott has to steel himself not to stare. But as they all stand in the elevator, both strangers framing Lallemant - one with a hand in his unbuttoned shirt, the other one busy kissing his neck - Eliott makes the mistake of looking into the mirror in front of him to watch the scene happening behind him, and he catches Lallemant's gaze.

Lallemant doesn't look away. There is no hint of shame in his eyes, just a challenge, somewhere between _fuck you I do what I want_ and _you could join us if you weren't a coward._ Throws his head back a little, mouth falling open as one of the men starts playing with his nipple, and lets out a loud exhale.

A sharp pang of desire tears through Eliott like lightning, and he swallows, throat dry, his crotch area uncomfortably tight, and says there petrified, until the elevator dings and he has to step out for his own floor.

"Have a good night, Eliott." Lallemant says as he steps out, tone laced with irony. 

Eliott ignores him and marches to his door, but as soon as he's closed it behind himself, he lets out a loud _fuck_ and immediately goes for his package of cigarettes, not caring if he stinks up the entire place.

…

He falls into bed early, trying to catch up on all the sleep he's lost recently.

But that soon appears to be a lost cause, as the noises start emanating from upstairs.

Apparently...his bedroom is right below Lallemant's, and he can hear everything. The bed moving, thumping sounds, and after that, a series of loud moans that leave very little to the imagination.

What the fuck. Aren't expensive apartments like these supposed to be sound proofed ? Or is Lallemant being that noisy on purpose ?

Soon all sorts of images of what must be happening upstairs start flooding his brain. It makes him want to stomp to Lallemant's apartment and either knock on his door until they shut up or alternatively, just waltz in, roll him in a bunch of covers, and steal him away, which is the most embarrassing thought he's ever had in his life. He wonders if this is Hades coming back up. 

But then he feels himself starting to get hard in his pants, and that just...cannot be happening. It just can't. 

So he takes a deep breath, dresses himself quickly and rushes downstairs to the corner 24/7 grocery shop where he buys the strongest earplugs he can find, which finally drown out the noise and allow him to sink into a deep sleep.

…

  
  


He is pulled out of sleep, though, only a few hours later, by the muffled vibrations of his phone next to his pillow.

When he takes the plugs out, and takes the call, he is met by the somewhat high strung voice of his boss.

"Get your ass upstairs. Now. There's a...thing gnawing at my coffee table."

Eliott does. 

And when he lets himself into the apartment with his own security code… he figures that _thing_ is really a euphemism.

It's one of the most corporeal ghosts he's ever seen - it's pretty much a decaying corpse, its skin and legs rotted off, and it's gnawing on the wood of what looks like an extremely expensive wooden coffee table inlaid with gold, all the while letting out a low growl. Its smell of decay reaches his noise, and it immediately makes him want to throw up.

Lallemant's head snaps up when Eliott enters. He is only wearing boxers but he looks as commanding as ever, his nervosity only betrayed by the tone of his voice. His skin is flushed and marked, his lips puffy, and his hair a mess. The nature of what he had just been doing is very obvious. Eliott hates the way it twists at his gut. 

"Where the fuck have you been ? I've been trying to reach you for half an hour."

His two bed partners are standing behind him, clutching at each other with terrified looks on their faces, one naked and hiding his genitals with his cupped hands, and for one, very petty second Eliott wants to laugh. He wouldn't want to have his dangly bits out in the open when there is an animated corpse in the room, with a pair of still very functional teeth.

"Sorry boss. I've had to put on earplugs. Noisy neighbors and all that." He says as nonchalantly as he can muster.

"Don't sass me right now. Get rid of that thing. Immediately."

Eliott has the impression that Lallemant is trying very hard not to appear scared in front of his guests, but his voice is very much strained and he gets why. As Lallemant takes a step to the side, the zombie-ghost stops what it was doing and starts scuttling towards him, sideways like a crab from hell. Lallemant lets out a terrified yelp and jumps on the couch. 

"Don't move." Eliott orders. "Stay as still as possible. That thing is fixated on you. You two can leave." He says in the direction of the redhead and the lumberjack. "Now!" He repeats at them as they stand there petrified. They finally get the message and scramble to get their things and make for the door. Something tells Eliott that they will think about it twice before going home with a stranger next time.

Lallemant looks at him with a sullen expression from where he is perched on the back of the couch.

"Why did you do that ? I wasn't done with them."

Eliott rolls his eyes. This man is ridiculous.

"Sure, because nothing gets the mood going like a heap of rotting meat that wants to kill you on your salon carpet."

"Hey, you don't know what I'm into." 

They look at each other and suddenly, Lallemant's sheer stubbornness highlighting the absurdity of the moment, they both break out into nervous laughter.

The thing on the carpet doesn't like that at all, though, and starts raising itself up menacingly, plopping its slimy, decaying forelimbs on the couch and starting to pull itself up.

"Eliott, please take care of that thing." Lallemant pleads, which is a nice step up from all the ordering around.

He rolls back his pajama sleeves and grabs into his bag.

Alright, time to get to work.

…

  
  


Half an hour later, he finally sinks down to the ground, completely emptied of any energy.

The place where the table stood is now an enormous, perfectly circular scorch mark, and the whole place smells like burned rotten meat.

Lallemant climbs down from the buffet he jumped up on when the zombie made for the couch.

"Wow, that was fucking nasty." He looks at Eliott with something on his face that looks a lot like worry. "Are you okay, dude ? You're all pale." 

"This was not a normal ghost," Eliott coughs, his voice hoarse from all the screaming he had to do. "It was...too solid. That was a curse. Someone sent it to you. Someone that wanted to hurt you."

"What the hell," Lallemant says. Then he turns around pensively and walks to the chimney, looking at an object on the mantelpiece. "Someone gave me this fancy jar thing this morning. One of these old biddies with charity, I forgot... Said it was an ancient relic from old Greece or whatever. Ugh. Well, it's not the first time someone tried to kill me…"

Wow. 

"Don't touch it." Eliott warns.

He burns the jar ritually to make sure all its power is destroyed, liberating an acrid black cloud that smells of pepper and sulfur. Yeah, definitely cursed. Great. So that means they have both natural AND non natural hauntings to contend with. This job is just getting more and more fun all the time.

...

After that, they flee from the smell, going down to Eliott's apartment, Lallemant already on the phone calling for cleaners and interior decorators to come fix the mess - the type, apparently, that respond at 4 am when you have a decorating emergency.

Eliott wraps a blanket around Lallemant's shoulders and makes them hot chocolate, which is the best remedy after magic related shock.

It doesn't matter how annoying and bossy he is ; like this, in his underwear and with streaks of ash all over his body, face tired and voice shaken, there is something about him that stirs up all of Eliott's protective instincts. He wonders if this is his daily life, swerving around death threats, and how he coped before Eliott came around.

If they keep getting into these sorts of scraps, Eliott realizes, it doesn't matter how much energy they put into antagonizing each other, they're mechanically going to end up bonding. And this is not about the fact that he's still obviously very sexually attracted to the man. No, it's something about him that just...draws him in, and that he is very afraid comes from a divine origin.

And the worst part of it is, he can't really bring himself to dislike the idea.

  
  
  
  


He's so screwed.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time : Lucas Lallemant meets with a friend, and has a moment of introspection.


	4. Chapter 3 - Lucas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas meets with a friend, and has a moment of introspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your feedback everyone ! This chapter is short and slightly angstier than anything so far, but I hope you still enjoy it <3
> 
> content warning : mature content

Chapter 3 - Lucas

  
  
  
  
  


Honestly, for a moment there, he'd started to regret hiring Eliott Demaury. He's forgotten how judgmental countryside people can be, and having that heavy stare of disapproval down his back all day while he already had so much on his plate put him in a murderous mood.  There is a reason why he left the place he grew up in. Everyone constantly watching each other, so sanctimonious and controlling, having so many opinions about other people's behavior, and tearing down anyone who dared to try and climb out of the crab bucket…

He might be projecting a little here, but he'll be damned before he ever lets anyone judge him like that again.

But then they went to the club, and Eliott spent the entire evening staring at him, and there was no condescendance there - no, it was jealousy, plain and simple, as obvious as the sun at noon. And that ...had changed things. 

He'd been too busy to really think about their night together, and he'd tried to let it go, but that night, the way Eliott looked at him...

It had stoked something heated and wild in Lucas's belly, and it had made him want to...provoke. All the while, Eliott had acted as if nothing was going on, and for an instant, Lucas had wanted that facade of control to crack. Hell, he would have let himself get fucked right in front of him if that's what it took to help him get a clue. But even he was lucid enough to know that would have been a really bad idea. So instead he made sure to be vocal about his enthusiasm while entertaining his guests, all the while thinking about the long lines of Eliott's body in his empty bed downstairs, all lonely and pissed off…

  
  


In the end, it had backfired a bit, and cost him a pretty table, but he'd liked the way Eliott had fussed over him afterwards. Making him hot chocolate and wrapping him in a blanket ? Shit, that was down right cute. He'd been too out of it to protest like he usually would have, and in the end, it had made him feel all warm and cosy and cared for, for the first time in...ages.

  
  


And it is messing him up. Big time.

What the fuck is happening to him ? Since when does he care what anyone thinks or feels about him anyway? This is disturbing. And anyway, as long as Eliott is his employee, he can't do shit. And firing him would probably defeat the purpose.

No...he needs a little bit of extra discipline, that's what he needs. 

He gets Jeremy to find a way to squeeze in some boxing classes in his schedule, so he can let out some steam in a different way. His outlet is usually mostly...well, sex. But that won't work if Eliott is the only thing he can think about when he's getting busy. And the idea of sleeping with anyone else is strangely distasteful to him at the moment. So boxing it is.

It works for a while, helping him forget all the confusing inner turmoil and the ghosts and the people trying to kill him via gift-zombie, as he hammers away at his punching bag and finds himself some willing partners. But it's not long before the physical exertion and closeness and sweat bring back exactly the thoughts he is trying to forget. The fact that Eliott is always there when he trains, watching him move with an almost heart melting intensity, doesn't help, not one bit. It's never creepy, though. It's...appreciative. Concerned. Curious. Tender, almost. 

Fuck.

On top of that, his sleep patterns are still haywire, and he drinks so much coffee he knows he's going to have another vagal syncope if he doesn't stop soon. He hasn't reached for the coke yet but he knows that step is not far away from him if he continues in that direction. 

...

Thankfully, it’s time for his monthly brunch with Imane. 

They have a reservation at their usual spot - a confidential, members only restaurant on top of a skyscraper, where they can be sure not to be disturbed. Lucas reaches their usual table before she arrives, nestled in a spacious booth facing a sprawling view of the city, framed by a waterfall fountain and lush tropical plants. Eliott waits next to the biggest plant, an enormous rubber fig tree, a bit unsure of how to behave, arms crossed around himself. Miles away from the confidently neutral aura a bodyguard is supposed to cultivate. He’s obviously nervous, and out of his depth.

He really isn't trained for this job at all, Lucas muses, or at least the front he is supposed to maintain. But the thought is much less fraught with annoyance than it would have been a few days ago. Ever since that incident with the curse, he's found himself to be a lot more indulgent towards Eliott, and this, in turn, unsettles him. He's gotten where he is today by expecting nothing less than excellence from the people who work for him. He can't afford to lower his standards for a pretty face.

Imane walks into the room at a brisk pace, looking amazing as always. She is wearing a deep blue pantsuit with wide legs, high heels and a complementary indigo veil of expensive silk dotted with gold around her face. He gets up and greets her, pulling out her chair for her in the process. 

It's not often he is happy to see other people. But she's one of his best - and honestly, rare - friends. As a prominent manager for one of his rival firms, she is, technically, a competitor. But they always manage to avoid sensitive business information and still exchange valuable insights about the industry. He appreciates her no-nonsense, yet elegant attitude and her honesty about her own ambition. He doesn't have to pretend to be nice around her, but she also sees right through his bullshit. In the end, they trust each other. They could have stabbed each other in the back for profit a thousand times, and they didn't, so now they know where they stand. 

Also, as a member of a minority faith, she shares his skepticism for the way the Way of the _Theoi_ , as organized by the Office of the Fates, has managed to extend its influence over every single aspect of public life, and it's refreshing. He knows many traditionalists would find it inappropriate, for a godly incarnation to fraternize with someone they would call "the enemy" but honestly...for this as for any other aspect of his life, they can go fuck themselves. 

They both order, and are brought their drinks immediately by their dedicated waiters - sparkly flower nectar water for Imane, white wine for him. He doesn't take the time to properly eat often, so when he does, he wants to appreciate it. 

"So," she digs right in, "how's your little ghost problem doing ?" 

He sighs. "I don't know...a bit better I guess." He casts a quick glance to Eliott. "I finally found a capable exorcist."

Imane follows his look. "Really ?" She smiles a little. "Congratulations." She narrows his eyes at him for a while, then smirks. 

"What ?" 

"Oh, nothing."

He figures it's better to let it slide. "So he rid me of those who attacked my board room, and of a curse I got sent to me the other days by those Temperance fuckers. A whole fucking zombie. Or like, half of it. That thing tried to gnaw my face off  _ and _ destroyed my Regency era coffee table, can you believe ?"

Imane frowns. "You mean the Blessed Society for the Promulgation of Temperance and Piety ?"

"I think...there are so many of those holier than thou assholes after me these days I lose track. With all those pedantic, ridiculous names. Why ?" 

She sighs. "My parent's mosque got an eviction order last week. Apparently it doesn't fit with the 'cultural integrity of the neighborhood'"she says with air quotes and a grimace of disgust. “They were the ones that demanded it.” 

"The fanatics really are getting bolder, huh."

"This place has always had a problem with religious tolerance. That's nothing new." Imane says. "But they  _ have _ been getting more extreme and active, and so has the press, and, I fear, public opinion. And an outright assassination attempt ? Please don't tell me you're being flippant about this." She sounds worried, which almost never happens, and is really what gets to him. 

"I'm...not, I just...I don't want to give them the satisfaction of losing my cool, okay ?" 

"Lucas, if they're trying to actually kill you now, your pride isn't going to protect you." 

"I know." He sighs. "But it's not the first time this happens, you know. If it's not a competitor, it's one of those Gods-bothered assholes." His voice grows bitter. "There are so many people who wish I could just die so they can get a proper Persephone the next time around, one that's less male and less gay and less determined to make his own path. Well, they can go fuck themselves. I did not play the meek flower girl then, and I am not going to roll over and die to please them right now either. Even if Hades is fucking hiding because he’s displeased with me. They can all go to hell."

He knows there are probably so many people who would be happier with a new Persephone, obedient and lovely and a woman, as is expected. Maybe Hades would come out of the woodworks, then. So many people say, sometimes to his face, that Hades disappearing is his fault, because he doesn't like his Persephone. That it's his fault the seasons are getting all out of whack, and that there are more hauntings everywhere than ever, too. He tries to not give a shit, but it still stings. 

"I'm sorry, Lucas." Imane says, with sadness in her eyes. 

"And I'm sorry, too, that you can't practice your religion in peace. But that's the price of standing outside of the flock of sheep, isn't it ?" 

"It shouldn't be." Imane says, her jaw set. 

The waiter enters their booth and they both pause their conversation. 

As he places their trays in front of them - they both ordered the brunch plateau, an assortment of foods in little plates, smoked salmon, microgreens, little pancakes with crisp honeycomb, caviar toasts, strawberries dipped in chocolate and gold leaf, a rare indulgence - Lucas can feel the gaze of Eliott on him, and he looks back, and for a moment he can feel...sympathy there, which is weird. 

He is standing far enough and they’re not talking loudly, not to mention there is a din in the backdrop from the rest of the restaurant. He should not be able to hear them. God-incarnations, such as himself, have heightened senses they can sharpen or tune out at will, but that’s not a talent an exorcist, even a powerful one, would have. 

But maybe he is misreading the situation and Eliott is being judgmental again. 

In any case, he stares back, until Eliott blushes and looks away. 

Imane is looking at him again when he turns back to her, that same smile on her face. 

“So...how’s life outside of work ?” 

  
  


“That’s a weird question,” he tells her. For both of them, life usually  _ is _ work. He narrows his eyes. “Unless you have something to tell me ?”

  
  
  
  


“Alright. Yes. I might have met a guy.” She blushes. 

  
  


“What ? Imane, are you going to leave me alone in the club of the ice cold hearts ?” 

  
  


Times definitely are weird. 

  
  


“Well, he makes me...happy. You know, you should try that sometimes.” 

  
  


Ouch. Where does that come from ?

  
  


“My net worth has increased by two million since this morning. I’m happy as fuck,” he snaps back. Usually, this would make her laugh.

  
  


She looks at him, a bit sad. Lucas is annoyed all of a sudden. He wants his razor sharp bestie that’s as cynical as him in believing all men are crap and you’re better off keeping your heart closed, in the end. 

  
  


“Listen, I never thought I would say this, but there are other things in life than money.” 

  
  


“That’s so cliché.” He scoffs. 

  
  


“So is being a bitter asshole,” she retorts. 

  
  


Ugh. Point. 

  
  


“Alright,” he says. “I’m happy for you. What’s he doing in life?”    
  
  
  


“Well, he doesn’t have  _ millions _ .” She says cheekily, spearing a strawberry with her fork. “But he is, hold on to your chair, a good man. He works with children at a kindergarten.” 

He raises his eyebrows. That’s...uncharacteristic. 

  
  


“I know, I know. But...I’m tired of all the seriousness. I have gone to so many dating events, full of guys who wanted to impress me with their expensive watches and size of their bonuses and god...I’m so bored. Sofiane is...don’t get me wrong, he is smart, I don’t go for dumbasses. But he’s also...warm. Emotionally intelligent. He notices people. He tells me stories of his day at work and what he wants to do with his own children and...he’s so funny.” She bites down on the strawberry, finally. “He doesn’t feel threatened by the fact that I earn more than him, like most of the guys I meet.” She sighs. “He has the cutest dimples ever.” 

Yeah, she’s gone. “Look at you.” Lucas says. “You’re in love. Disgusting.” 

  
  


She giggles. Again, very uncharacteristic. 

  
  


“Too early to tell. But, Mr Lallemant, I have to tell you, the prognostics for the next trimester look encouraging.” 

“Lots of potential for exponential growth, then ?” He smiles. Despite everything, he is glad to see his friend happy. 

She laughs. “Don’t worry. We’ll find you someone next. Synergy cluster.” 

  
  


Oh no. That’s the problem with people who are in love. They think everybody else should be, too. 

  
  


“No. Leave me alone.”

  
  


“Oh come on. I get it, the whole footloose and fancy free thing, I do. But...doesn’t it get old to sleep alone on piles of money after a while ?” 

  
  
  


“No.” Lucas says again. “But that’s because I have more money than you.” 

  
  


“Very smart and snappy, Mr. Lallemant. But you’ll see. One day, someone will get under that icy facade of yours, and you’ll feel richer than you’ve ever been.” 

  
  


God, he wants to believe her, for a fleeting moment. 

  
  
  


But he can’t. And in that rare instant, it makes him miserable.

  
  
  


...

  
  
  


As they finish their meal and separate, and Lucas walks back to his car waiting to take him to his next meeting without even a break, he feels strange. Maybe he should have told her about his problems, but he didn’t feel like venting too much when she looked so happy. He knows he should be glad for her, he wants to, but...

He chides himself. Of course Imane would eventually meet someone. She's beautiful, smart, and has a lot more heart than she usually lets on. She's the whole package. It's ridiculous, that this is kicking up his abandonment issues. She's still going to have time to brunch with him every month, it's not like they're joined at the hip either, or even that close. 

But still. He keeps thinking of what she said. 

_ We'll find you someone. _

The truth is...maybe some part of him, deep down, actually wants that. But he can't have it. His options are so limited. 

Hades is gone. Hades doesn't want him. And even if Hades came back to claim him, Lucas wouldn't want him either. Because that means he would have to step into the role he has been avoiding all his life. The submissive, docile incarnation of spring, there to look pretty and do as he's told, assist public rituals, bless babies, make flowers grow, be an ornament. Innocent and pure. That's what Hades would want, all the religious texts say. And he is terrified that were he to actually meet Hades, he would turn into that without even meaning to, by some insidious trick of his own divine nature. 

So no. Fuck that. 

But...anyone else...who would want to be with him, knowing he's promised to somebody else ? That wouldn't be fair to any potential partner.

And he can't imagine anyone willing to deal with all the hassle - the ghosts, the spontaneous magic, the tabloids, the attention, not to mention his high pressure lifestyle - while knowing Lucas would always be destined for his Hades. Knowing he would be taking away the "bride" of the God of the Dead, for fuck's sake, the one entity everyome has to deal with and nobody wants to anger. He knows the press would probably generate a monstrous harassment campaign against anyone he would date publicly. 

So. One night stands and booty calls. That's what he has, and he'll make the best of it. He has no time for self pity. He loves it - the freedom, the thrill of the chase, the adventurous sex, the lack of strings attached, no need to worry about whether his life fits someone else's needs. He does.

  
  


It's better than any other alternative, anyway.

  
  


...

Eliott looks at him in a weird way all afternoon. He’s gentle and considerate and it makes Lucas feels as if he is being babied. Eliott seems...sorry for Lucas, and that makes his blood boil. Nobody should feel fucking sorry for him, and especially not his peasant of a bodyguard who didn't even go to college. He's on top of the fucking world. He's only started climbing. 

  
  


He finally snaps in the afternoon after Jeremy brings him his coffee, lukewarm and tasting all wrong. 

  
  


“What the fuck is this ? Is there coconut milk in there ?” 

  
  


“They didn’t have oat milk anymore.” 

  
The nonchalance in his voice makes Lucas blow a fuse, and he throws the whole thing right at Jeremy’s chest. 

  
  


“Then you go to another venue to get me some fucking oat milk ! What the hell do you think I’m paying you for ?” 

  
  


His dumbass of a PA stares at him, coffee dripping from the files he is holding, stammering weak excuses. Behind him, Eliott stares at him, this time the distaste clear on his face. For a second, Lucas wants to tear his face off. The fact that he even allows himself to judge…

  
  


He takes a deep breath. He knows he’s in the wrong there. But still. At least, outright disapproval he can handle. 

Eliott’s cold shoulder treatment continues all the way to the apartment. This time, the ghosts are waiting in the corridor for them. Eliott does his job calmly and methodically, ignoring Lucas all the while, and when he’s done, he greets him politely and distantly, and excuses himself to his quarters. 

  
  


It’s better this way, Lucas tells himself as he stands there, nose full of the smell of burnt carpet. Keeping it professional, no blurred boundaries, no late night bonding and laughing and hot chocolate. It’s better. 

  
  


Then why does he feel like the exorcism burnt a hole through his chest, as well ? 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, he's a dumbass, that one. bby :/
> 
> ...
> 
> next time : the job starts wearing Eliott down, and he has to stand up for himself


	5. Chapter 4 - Eliott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conditions of the job start wearing down on Eliott and he seeks out some help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy everyone ! once again thank you for the feedback, and don't forget to leave me a comment to tell me what you thought about this chapter ! this time we're exploring their world a bit more and i hope you will like it ! 
> 
> this fic is unbeta-ed for speed reasons and so there might be some typos etc. 
> 
> also in this chapter we're briefly tackling mental health and health care, it being a fantasy world with magic they would have different ways of dealing with it and so it's not meant to be realistic or representative in anyway, more in the realm of metaphors, but i still wanted to include it as it's part of Eliott's story.
> 
> cw : brief depressive moment

_Chapter 4 - Eliott._

Eliott is slowly settling into his job. He’s getting used to a lot of its more demanding sides - the frantic rhythm, the standing around and looking serious, the exorcisms at weird hours of the day. Even though having to be around people all the time is...a change. At least his new plushy bed and his fancy shower make up for it a little - he’s spending so much of his free time there he might soon become an amphibian. And there is actual money in his bank account now, so much he doesn't even know what to do with it. He bought himself a silk pajama set online with raccoons on it. It seems ridiculous but it was the only thing he really wanted. 

  
  


Being around Lallemant, though ? That might never feel normal. The man is such a bloody rollercoaster to experience in both good and bad ways. And that has only partly to do with him being a god.

  
  
  


After that incident with the curse, there had been somewhat of an amelioration. Lallemant had been a lot less tense around him, and they’d even joked around once or twice. He'd started to think he might even come to enjoy his job at some point.

But then, that lunch with his friend had happened, and…he doesn't understand why exactly but his boss' attitude towards him - towards everyone, in fact, had taken a sharp turn for the worse.

  
  


He knows he overstepped by listening in. But he couldn’t help it. And hearing Lallemant thought that maybe Hades was staying away because he didn’t like his Persephone...it made him feel so guilty. There was sadness behind the anger. The way he had reacted to his friend’s happy announcement...there had been jealousy in there, and he had felt almost fragile to Eliott afterwards. So Eliot had wanted to be extra kind to him, and he should have known that was a bad move. His boss' kryptonite is anyone acting as if they see any sort of vulnerability in him.

That tone of longing in his voice, though...for something he could never have...

Gods, the one in Eliott's heart feels exactly the same.

  
  
  


At first, he’d been so confused. It didn’t fit Lallemant’s playboy behavior. It hadn’t taken long to dawn on him, though. He can’t very well go around dating people when he’s supposed to be automatically betrothed to his divine consort, is he ? 

  
  
  
  
  


Is that why he’s always so mean and snappy all the time ? Because this is all he can have ?

  
  
  
  


Eliott feels the burden of responsibility for that, he does. At the same time, he knows what it’s like to have your entire life fucked over by the Gods, and that doesn’t give him any more of an excuse to treat people like Lallemant does. The sympathy he musters there is very, very limited. Especially since the last few days, his boss’s acted less like a badass businessman with high standards and more like a spoiled celebrity throwing tantrums over completely futile things. 

  
  
  


So yeah. They’re pretty much back to square one, and maybe this is better. More reasonable. 

But that doesn’t make him like the renewed coldness between them any easier to bear.

He catches himself, sometimes, marvelling at the way the sunlight hits Lallemant’s azure eyes, the curve of his neck, a collarbone peeking out of a shirt, the trimness of his waist, his legs when he goes for a run…remembers the sensation of firm muscles and soft skin under his hands, and regrets how hazy it all is in his mind...it makes him want to go back for seconds, now that he _knows_...

  
  


And every time he has to catch himself and calm himself down.

He can’t indulge in this, it’s too dangerous. What if it starts triggering the hidden Hades powers inside him ? Making him visible to all the entities who know how to _see_ magic ? The other day, they’d driven by the Central Office of the Fates, a massive and forbidding building. It had sent chills down his spine. It would be so easy for them to detect Eliott were his powers to resurface right under their noses. 

  
  


Maybe it’s for the better, Lucas being such an asshole. But it’s not making his job any easier. Because the exorcisms are starting to demand more and more of his energy, leaving him completely drained and heavy afterwards, and it would be much easier to do this for someone he had at least a little more goodwill towards instead of someone he wants to slap half of the time. 

  
  


He has no grounds to complain too much, though. In the end, he brought this on himself. 

  
  


…

  
  
  


The next time it happens, it’s in broad daylight again, and this time, in public. 

  
  


He’s just opened the door for Lucas to step out of a fancy restaurant after a lunch with some potential business partners when he feels a wave of cold at his back. 

He turns around.

There, in the middle of all the bustle of people going about their day, an old woman is standing still. Nobody notices that there is something seriously wrong with her face : eye sockets hollow, skin the purple of early decomposition. She stares at Lucas, and opens her mouth slowly, revealing rotting gums and dark oozing fluid. 

Eliott reacts immediately, pushing Lucas back into the restaurant and closing the door behind him. Hopefully nobody would have known he was there and they can avoid public scrutiny. 

He gets out his herbs in a hurry, setting fire to a bundle, no time to use his cauldron, and channels the smoke to make a circle around the apparition. These plants are specially chosen for their capacity to cleanse and ward evil, as well as channel his powers - hysope, rue, mandragore - and usually he finds working with them very easy, but today there is something sticky and dirty in the air, and everything feels like pushing through molasses. 

The creature’s mouth opens, full of black bile that dribbles over its chin. Eliott feels a flare of revulsion. What he’d give to be a fucking flower goddess, right now. 

“Lucaaaaaaaasssssss.” The creature starts hissing. “Peeeeeerseeeephoooooneeeeeeeee.” 

  
  


What the hell ? Do these come with special messages now ? 

  
  


He needs to hurry before anyone alerts the press. He can sense the eyes of onlookers already. 

  
  


Normally he goes through some ritual steps but the truth is, he doesn’t really need them. It’s...a way to disguise the fact that his powers don’t exactly work like those of most exorcists. 

He recites a short incantation to the chtonic realms, under his breath, and visualises the earth splitting open, right under the undead creature. And it does, immediately responding to his call, with a loud crack that sends people around them reeling backwards. The revenant is sucked in, and vaguely tries to resist, but the darkness pulls it in, hungry for the dead to return to their rightful place. And then everything goes back to normal, the ground closes, nothing left but a vague smell of decay and a little bit of smoke. 

He falls down to his knees, and a wave of horrible weakness comes over him. Dread, despair, so terribly familiar. Fuck. His head spins, and he wants to puke. 

  
  


“Are you ok ? Sir ?” Somebody asks. 

  
  


“I’m fine,” he growls. He needs to get out of here before anybody asks any questions. He drags himself up and back into the restaurant. In there, the attendant tells him that Lucas left already, and the glances of the staff make him understand they would like him to do the same as soon as possible. 

He leaves through the backdoor, and walks to the closest subway stop, feeling hurt and confused. He understands why Lucas would go, to protect himself from anyone noticing his presence, but it still stings. It’s a sharp reminder that while he may be forced to care about the man’s safety and wellbeing, the reverse absolutely isn’t true. He decides to go back to his old place, that he was still keeping in case his new job didn’t pan out, and he needed some discretion away from Lallemant’s constant needs. He doesn’t want his boss to see him like this. 

The travel back to his old apartment takes forever, and he feels like absolute shit all the way there, head pounding, body slow and haggard, muscles sore. He feels bad after an exorcism, usually, but not like this. The only time he gets like this is when one of his dark moods swing over him, but that’s not supposed to happen anymore. And even then, it’s not usually this fulgurant.

When he finally makes it back, the first thing he notices is how small and dingy the place is, now that he is getting used to better.

He goes to the bathroom and splashes water over his face. Then, he pulls his sleeve up and inspects the inside of his right upper arm, where his healing tattoo is hidden. Two snakes entwined around a rod, a blessing from Asclepius, god of medicine, and his daughter Panacea, goddess of cures. It was done by a healer, along with a magical rite, and is supposed to keep his mood mostly stable. But now he can see that the lower edge of the tattoo, the snakes’ tails, have gone blurry. As if the tattoo was disappearing into his skin, and the efficacy of the charm fading. 

  
  


Fuck. This can’t be happening, on top of everything. 

  
  


He looks at his phone, and sees he has three missed calls. But the last thing he wants to do now is deal with Lucas Lallemant’s bullshit. So he pops a few milkweed pills he had left, and he slumps into his old bed, not bothering to take off his suit. He immediately falls asleep like a falling rock.

  
  


...

He’s woken up brutally after what feels like five minutes of drunken, heavy sleep, by someone ruthlessly pounding on his door. He waits it out at first, for whoever asshole this is to go away, but it doesn’t, and he should have known - the asshole currently ruling his life has no intention of letting him rest, ever. 

He opens the door, and finds himself faced with a random security mook, big and beefy with a face as friendly as a prison door. 

  
  


“Mr. Lallemant is waiting for you in his car downstairs.” He growls, in a tone that leaves no space for refusal. 

  
  


Of course he would be. 

“Just a minute.” He grabs his phone and wallet and his exorcist materials, and puts on his shoes, then he exits his place and goes down the rickety stairs, not waiting for the mook to follow. 

  
  


Lallemant’s silvery expensive car is waiting in the street, completely out of place in this shabby part of the town. As he approaches, a back window opens, and Lallemant stares at him from it. 

  
  


“Where the fuck were you ? I have a crucial meeting in twenty minutes, get in the fucking car.” 

  
  


Eliott takes his time walking to the _fucking car_. 

  
  


“I need an afternoon off.” He says when he reaches Lallemant. 

  
  


“What ? What the fuck are you talking about ? That’s not included in your contract. You don’t get days off until my problem is solved. Now get in the car.” 

  
  


“No.” Eliott says. 

  
  


Lallemant frowns. 

  
  


“Is this retaliation for me leaving without you ?” 

  
  


Eliott swears. He’s getting really tired of this bullshit. 

  
  


“No it’s not. I just need to deal with some personal stuff.”

  
  
  


“I don’t care.” Lucas snaps. “This deal I am about to close is too important to be interrupted by some fucking ghosts. So stow it, and deal with your little problems later. Or if you don’t, we might have to dock your pay by half.” 

  
  


Eliott is really, really not in a mood for this. He feels something inside of him let loose.

  
  
  
  
  


“Listen, you arrogant, entitled asshole. That last ghost did something to me. So right now, I can’t help you. I just don’t have the power anymore, and if I try, there is a chance I would get sucked into the Underworld right along with the ghost, and you’re the last person on Earth I want to do that for. So no, I don’t give a shit about that little business meeting of yours or that you might lose some pocket change. Cry me a river. And if you want to pay me less, maybe you should ask yourself who of the two of us needs the other more.” 

  
  


Lallemant’s face goes pale. 

  
  
  


“But I…” He flounders. He is clearly not used to people talking to him that way.

  
  


“And another thing,” Eliott adds, words rushing out now that he finally seems to be getting to him, “You might think that what you’re going through entitles you to be such a fucking jerk, but in my old life, I regularly met people who’d had their entire lives ruined by the supernatural, as in it killed their children and destroyed their livelihoods and made them pariahs in their entire communities, and they bore it with more grace than you’re even able to conceptualize. So grow the fuck up. And next time you want to whine about your coconut latte, do us all a favor and maybe don’t.”

  
  


Lucas stares at him, his expression dumbstruck. They just stare at each other in silence, for a minute. Then Lallemant relents. 

  
  


“What if I...what if ghosts attack me while you’re away ?” His voice sounds defeated, soft, and it completely takes the wind out of Eliott’s sails. It reminds him that _he_ ’s the supernatural force ruining this man’s life, and he’s way out of line even though Lallemant doesn’t know it. 

  
  


“You, uh. If you go to the Temple of Apollo in the city center, you should be safe. I can meet you there when I’m done.”

“Alright. Thank you. I will.” He rolls his window up without looking at Eliott again. Eliott hears him ask Jeremy next to him to cancel the meeting, and then the car drives away, leaving him behind. 

  
  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  


He takes the subway again, to the central Asclepeion of the city, hoping they will be able to set him back to rights. His head is pounding all the way there, body heavy, and he feels sluggish, like he wants to stay in bed for a week. 

The building is old, like its titular God, and very crowded. He would have thought that the main Temple of Asclepius would be a shining haven of peace, healing and reassurance. But instead the place looks overburdened, in disrepair and overwhelmed, healers running every which way, patients laid down in odd places and makeshift beds in corridors. In the central courtyard, a lot of the sacred olive trees are dried out, dead for fault of anyone paying attention to them. 

He has to wait in line three and a half hours to see a healer, amidst crumbling stone pillars and people in various states of injury and distress. For a moment, he feels ashamed - people bleeding, pale, obviously sick, and he's going to take precious time from these people because he is just feeling _sad._

But he doesn't have a choice. Lallemant might be an asshole but the thought of leaving him to fend for himself against increasingly aggressive ghosts doesn't sit well with Eliott, at all.

_And he's still my Persephone_ , a deeper part of his brain supplies. And that sits uneasy with him. He would rather be acting out of simple decency rather than fate mandated impulse. He dislikes the feeling of responsibility he is starting to have towards his boss and his situation. Eliott never asked to be Hades, either. He would rather interact with Lallemant on his own terms.

_But he would never have hired you if you weren't Hades,_ his brain continues. _Never would have put you in his bed either. Never even would have looked at you twice._

Why does that thought sting so much ? 

_You're a nobody. Apart from the Hades essence that was bestowed on you, there is nothing special about you. And now you are squandering the only thing that gives you value. Lallemant might be an asshole but he seized his fate with his two hands. You're just trying to avoid it and hiding like a coward. He would despise you if he knew what you really are and how you are running, you pathetic weakling._

He rubs at his temples, trying to ignore the vicious jabs of his own mind. He just needs to see a healer, and he will be fine. But gods, in that instant, he feels so fucking alone. 

Finally, finally he arrives at the guichet, where a small lady in a blue cap, sitting in a booth tiled with rutilant green that resembles the skin of a snake, who asks for his complaint, then gives him a ticket and sends him down a corridor, before ringing the bell for the next patient.

The healer that greets him is old, old enough to have passed retirement age, and she is wearing old bottleneck glasses, and a blouse that has been washed so often it has gone grey. She looks kind, but harried. 

"Sorry for the wait, dear." She says as she listens to his heart with a stethoscope and then examines his tattoo with a looking glass. "Oh, dear." She then says, tone suddenly worried. "When did you get this done ?"

"Four years ago." Eliott replies.

"No, that can't be right." She frowns and examines it again. "This is really strange. The upper side of it is all right, and the charm work seems solid, but the lower part is fading, and it looks like he was done decades ago." Her expression closes off. "Have you been dabbling in forbidden magic ? In your state ?" 

He feels a pang of fear.

"No!" He frowns, thinking. "But I am an exorcist. And I have been fending off...a lot of curses lately."

Her expression softens again. "Maybe you should think of getting another job, dear. This one doesn't seem to be doing you any favors." 

"I can't…" Eliott's throat is raw. "I have to…"

It's true. He literally can't afford to stop, because before he started working as an exorcist, his powers would accumulate and come back to haunt him in the worst possible way. The dead would start crawling out of their graves again like whenever he came into a new village, and he would have migraines, and impossible nightmares, and…

But he could go back to a quieter way to use his powers. He could. He was fine before he started working for Lallemant.

  
  


She sighs. "Well, whatever it is you have to do, I would suggest doing it quickly. Because you won't be able to do this forever." She says. She has another pair of goggles on now on top of her own, with dark purple glass and golden rims, and all sorts of gears attached to them - he knows these are used to see a person's aura. "It's eating at you. It's not just the charm, there is something…" She frowns. "And there is this strange barrier...as if something was there that I couldn't see…"

Fuck. He can't let her see his mother's protective shield.

"It's just a special type of warding." He days hastily. "Secrets of the trade, all that, you know."

"Hm." Eliott can tell she is suspicious. "Well, I can redo the charm on your arm. But I have to warn you, if you keep this up, it will fade quicker and quicker, and at some point, we won't be able to help you anymore, do you understand?" 

He nods, uneasy. Suddenly he just wants to be out of there, as fast as possible.

She gives him a tincture of milkweed diluted in water - the all purpose sacred herb of Aesculape, which will augment her powers - before having him lie down on the table. Her assistant stands behind Eliott and starts chanting, and as he does Eliott sees a golden fog start to envelop his own body. The healer gets her enchanted tattoo machine, cleanses his skin and then sets to work. Eliott bites into his lip as he feels the sting of the needle, but he is used to this - he has several protective tattoos already, on his back and chest and ankle and leg. He always doubted their efficiency but he figured they might be useful if he ever got really down, and at least it made him look the part - Godly incarnations wouldn't _need_ tattoos, would they ? 

As the healer works, the outline of two snakes appear above him in white light, the spirit energy she is calling on and tying to him, and as it enters his body he feels his bad mood slowly drain from him - and sees it happen, too, a dark grey cloud that slowly dissolves into the gold. It's not a pleasant operation, and once it's done he feels numb and sore, with a bitter taste in his mouth.

The assistant gives him a glass of water, and the healer barely leaves him a minute before leading him to the door again. 

"I understand that sometimes there is nobody else to do the work," she says to him, sadly. "But there won't be anyone at all if you don't pace yourself." 

And with these ominous words, she closes the door behind him. 

  
  


His heart sinks into his stomach. His mental illness sometimes does get worse after a job that is too demanding. But not like this, so fast and out of nowhere, and _eating_ at his shields ? The one that his mother, one of the most powerful sorceresses that ever lived, made ? What the fuck ? What are those creatures after Lallemant ? The more he knows, the more he is starting to think that this isn't a matter of simple restless dead. This is openly malevolent. 

But how the fuck can he tell his boss without revealing his secrets? He feels so fucking alone all of a sudden. And he is used to be alone, when it's just him, and the decisions he makes affect only him, but fuck, there is so much more at stake now. This is the type of aloneness that feels like a burden, not freedom.

  
  


…

  
  


He makes his way back to the Temple of Apollo on foot, a dozen blocks closer to the center of the city, figuring the fresh air might do him some good. But it's an overcast day, the wind is cold and he isn't properly dressed. By the time he arrives at the temple, he's shivering.

This Temple is a splendid place, with high marble walls, a white marble dome, and sculpted doors gilded with gold. Compared to the Aesclepeon, who is left to shoulder most of the town's healthcare needs on its own, staffed mostly by devotees and volunteers, the Temple of Apollo is a cultural center, and it has no shortage of rich patrons desiring to curry favor and show status. It's a fitting place for Lallemant to wait, and Eliott is half expecting to find him in yet another VIP corner having drinks with Apollo herself. 

But that's not what happens. Instead Lallemant is waiting for him on the outside stairs of the building, and he immediately rushes towards Eliott when he sees him arrive. 

"There you are ! Are you ok ?" He looks worried. 

Eliott nods curtly. "I'm fine. My energy levels just dropped too low, so I went to see a healer and she fixed me up. It happens to exorcists, regularly, just generally not that fast. It's not a big deal." He's not sure exactly why he lies.

"You look cold," Lallemant says and then takes off his expensive deep blue cashmere scarf and wraps it around Eliott's neck before Eliott can react. It's incredibly soft, but the sudden proximity almost gives him a heart attack. But as Lallemant is about to pass one of the scarf's extremities in a loop to fasten it, he freezes, as if he just realized what he was doing.

"Um, I'm sorry, I…" he takes a step backwards.

Eliott finishes tucking the scarf into place. He knows that it is a little...out of bonds, but right now, he just...Gods he needs comfort, and however destabilizing it might be, this...this really works. "It's okay." He manages, voice rough. "Thank you. I was cold." He looks at the sky. It's early May, it should be much warmer than it is but the seasons have been completely out of whack lately. 

Lallemant nods, his cheeks flushed. He's so beautiful, it hits Eliott, then, for an instant, anger replaced by concern on his face, and it reminds Eliott of how soft he'd looked when still sleeping, on that morning, for a split second before Eliott had seen the flowers…

  
  
  


Fuck. No. He can't go there.

  
  


They climb into the back of the car. Eliott is oddly relieved that Jeremy isn't there.

There is silence as the car gets underway, but then Lallemant starts, his voice contrite, 

"I'm sorry that I left you behind. And if I push you too hard. I didn't realize...I'm...I can have this tunnel vision sometimes, where I'm so focused on my goals that...but that's not an excuse. What I mean is, I am grateful for your help. Before you arrived, my life was hell." There is a slight tremor in his voice, as if this is difficult for him to admit. "It's still not great, but at least with you here…" 

Eliott is slightly dumbfounded at this show of consideration. The man seems like a totally different person, tentative and hesitant.

"I was just doing my job." Eliott says softly.

Lallemant bites his lip, and looks up at Eliott, his eyes earnest and so intense they could wipe all the clouds from the sky. "Well, you're doing a damn good one, then."

Eliott feels his chest flush with warmth, and it's destabilizing. He's had hushed gratitude, yes, and compensation, and ambivalent thanks, but he's never been told he did a good job. Never like this, at least, with such a tone of pride. It makes him blush and look away.

"I just...just do what I can, I guess." 

"I am serious." Lallemant continues. "Do you know how many charlatans I have hired before you ? Seven. I kid you not. Most of them ran away when they saw the ghosts and I had to hide and wait for hours until they were gone. And they all seemed to be doing well for themselves. You could make fucking bank, with some proper advertising. I'll help you when this is done. Honestly, if people know you've survived working for me…" he chuckles, self deprecation in his tone, "they'll know you can survive anything. You'll have the top exorcist firm in the city before the year is passed - hell, the entire region. You could train your own people, properly, no bullshit or theatrics guaranteed. I can see it already. I could even film you banishing a ghost, for later use. The Fates would have such a heart attack. It would be bloody brilliant."

Eliott can't help but laugh a little. Of course Lallemant would see it as an opportunity for success and pissing fate off. The thought terrifies him, honestly. But he can't help but be touched at the trust it implies. 

Lallemant smiles at him, a little cheekily, as if he was glad he made Eliott laugh, and for a moment, they just look at each other, and Eliott's head starts turning because _what the fuck is happening there._

Then Eliott blinks and Lallemant looks away, embarrassment visible on his face.

"Well, anyway," he continues, tone a little rushed, "I talked to Apollo."

Of course he did. Eliott can't bring himself to be annoyed at the casual name dropping anymore. 

"I wanted to ask her if she received any sort of threats. She didn't, of course, since she usually keeps to what is expected of her, and of course, everyone likes her so much the fundies can't do much against her anyway." There is bitterness in his tone now, as if he is jealous. "But she told me that...she could see something around me. A darkness." He sighs. Eliott can't help but feel a pang of worry. 

"The healer told me something similar." He says, hesitantly. "That there was something...destroying my shields. Gnawing at them. I don't think...your haunting is just because of...because of, you know."

Lallemant narrows his eyes at him. Fuck, did he assume too much ? "You mean because of my godly consort fucking off ?" 

"Yeah. I think...this is someone actively trying to harm you." 

Lallemant sighs. "This isn't new. But ...fuck. They're really determined this time, aren't they ?" He presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "Listen, Eliott, I understand if this is too much for you. If you want to get off this train now, I won't be mad. You'll get a handsome bonus and a glowing recommendation from me. And I'll rent a room from Apollo or something. I don't want you to risk your life for me. I am an asshole, yeah, but not that kind." 

Eliott clenches his jaw. "I don't. I'm in this with you now. Besides, whoever is targeting you knows me now. And I am not the type to give up at the first sign of difficulty." 

Lallemant looks him over, and there is respect in his tone."I can see that." He grabs something in his pocket and extends it to Eliott, and his jaw drops a little. 

It's a necklace, long and made of pure, braided gold strands. He recognizes it - it's a blessing from Apollo, containing a strand of her divine essence. It's the type of godly artefact that is notorious for being extremely long to make and difficult to get, generally only bestowed to the God's most beloved followers. 

"How did you get this…?" 

"I'm good at bargaining." Lallemant says smugly. 

"I can't...you should wear it."

"No." He replies, then adds, eyebrows raised. "I'm a god, I don't need it. Besides, I am more stubborn than you, so you might as well take it before I try to lasso it around your neck." He wiggles his eyebrows and gives him a cheeky grin, as he slowly mimics the motion with the necklace, as if he was genuinely about to rope Eliott in, and makes a whiplash noise.

Eliott laughs again, and relents. He understands why this man is so good at bargaining. If you're not careful, there is something about him that makes you want to sign over your entire life to him. That boyish charm coupled to the fire of determination in his eyes...

Or maybe that's just him.

  
  


The necklace feels almost weightless in his hand, and as he passes it around his neck, he feels a warm and sunny glow, almost like a blanket, settle on his shoulders.

Lallemant looks at him, satisfaction evident on his face, something strangely protective in his expression. As if he, too, now, feels responsible for Eliott's wellbeing.

Eliott can feel the way his scarf brushes softly against his skin, and smell his scent, deep and woodsy, and for a short instant, he gets caught in the hope that maybe, he isn't as alone as he thought.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucas kind of deserved that talk didn't he ^^ but at least ! progress !
> 
> next time : Lucas's visit to the temple of Apollo, and...a day off at home becomes a bonding opportunity.


	6. Chapter 5 - Lucas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to the temple of Apollo, and a day off provides some bonding opportunities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyy who's ready for some Softness !!!!! Enjoy <3
> 
> btw my plan now is to update the fic twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays! I I have already written 3 chapters ahead so that should be doable ^^
> 
> cw : mature content

_ Ch 5 - Lucas _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Gods, he is getting mushy now. It's fucking embarrassing, that's what it is. 

  
  


When he'd seen that ghost outside the restaurant and Eliott had pushed him back in, he'd panicked. There had been people  _ everywhere _ . What if they'd seen him ? His head had filled with images of paparazzi and torches and pitchforks, his rational brain had short circuited, and he'd turned tail and ran. His car had been halfway across the city before he'd even thought of Eliott.

It was not that big of a deal, he tried to rationalize it for himself as a wave of shame overtook him. The guy was perfectly competent, he didn't need Lucas, and he had nothing to risk when on his own, right ? And taking the subway wouldn't kill him - he probably did it all the time before coming to work for him. So Lucas had gone back to his office and waited for him to turn up there - except he didn't. He'd checked Eliott's flat under the penthouse, and when he'd come up empty, he'd started to seriously worry. What if the people who were after him also had gotten to Eliott ? But then he'd remembered the address he'd put on his application file.

He had been more than a little annoyed, then, to see that Eliott had only been  _ taking a nap, _ refusing to respond to his calls and leaving Lucas to worry like some sort of idiot -

But it had turned out that this one was on him - he had seriously underestimated the gravity of their situation. 

Seeing Eliott so under the weather, and the things he'd said…it had been a shock.

There is very little he hates more than somebody trying to teach him a lesson. Because most people are hypocrites, anyway. He's heard it all, all the holier than thou preaching, and over the years, it's made him inure to any sort of criticism. Which is probably not such a great thing, but at the same time his confidence has served him well in his line of work. He projects this image that he's never sorry for anything, and most people treat him accordingly.

But Eliott…fuck, there is something so...pure and earnest about him sometimes. It gets under his walls in a way nobody else does. It's...so strange.

.

He gets more than enough time to think about Eliott's words as he goes into the Temple of Apollo. He tries to be as discrete as possible, entering through one of the smaller entries, settling with a book in one of the cafes of the third floor with a deliciously flaky pastry. He's been craving real food a lot, as of late. It's almost exciting ; like skipping class, except this time it's his own life that he is avoiding. But his eyes only skim over the lines on the page, mind stuck on a loop. 

  
  


_ You arrogant, entitled asshole. _

  
  
  


_ Maybe you should ask yourself who of the two of us needs the other more _ .

  
  
  


_ I can’t help you.  _

  
  
  


The truth is, he  _ needs _ Eliott now. And he hates it. 

  
  


He hates how safe having Eliott around makes him feel, and he hates being dependent on someone else like that, because people always leave. And he hates the fact that he'd let Eliott talk to him that way, and that after the sheer shock, he'd realised that the fire in Eliott's eyes when he talked, it was doing  _ things _ to him, in his lower belly, and, fuck….he hates that he doesn't even hate all that, not really, and this is all so disturbing he's let it turn him into a massive asshole. Eliott wasn't wrong. He's often harsh and demanding, but not this petty, acting like a spoiled diva.

  
  


He's acting out of fear. That's what he _really_ hates. He'd promised himself he was done with that.

  
  


He considers the idea that something might happen to Eliott and/or that Eliott might decide to leave him and that is... extremely unpleasant. It's not simply that he is so effective at his job or that he is so bloody attractive or even that they both know something could happen between them once this is done. No, there is something...he has the feeling that their fates are entangled for some reason. And when they're together, it feels almost...comfortable. Sometimes. When Lucas forgets to be a livewire for a minute.

  
  


He's lost deep in thought when someone slides into the chair in front of him, and he almost jumps. 

  
  


A woman in her late thirties, with a stub nose and messy blond hair and strong dark eyebrows. He knows who she is, immediately, even though he's only ever seen her once, years ago. He can feel the energy that emanates from her, golden and radiant.

"Hello, Persie." 

Ugh, he hates that nickname.

"Apollo."

"Call me Julie." She smiles. 

He pointedly does not ask her to call him Lucas. Or say anything else.

"You know, it's a bit rude to drop by unannounced. I had been hoping we could have a chat soon." 

"I didn't know you were here." He lies. The energy signature of another god is very hard to miss. 

She doesn't pick up on it. "So, good pastry, huh ? The cinnamon rolls are my favorite, personally." She says. Out of nowhere, a server appears and puts one in front of her, on a little golden plate, and she bites into it with delight, not one crumb falling onto her sunflower colored turtleneck.

There is a reason why he mostly avoids the other gods. They always make him feel...so inadequate. And Apollo, especially. She is beloved by all and still successful, making her temples into beacons of culture, nurturing young artists and running creative programmes that go on to produce the best and brightest, and half the celebrities in the city and beyond - which, of course, often come back to her to express their endless gratitude and admiration. 

Then again, being the God of music and art and light and the Sun...it must be incredible. To be able to touch so many lives in such a positive way ...whatever he manages to do with his paltry little flower bouquets, it's never going to match up to that. 

"I do not stand for moping in my humble abode. Let me give you a tour." She says. 

And he follows her - he was bored anyway, he needs a distraction. The whole place is amazing - the central waterfall around which crossing spiral staircases turned, the diffuse golden light everywhere, the gorgeous statues and paintings, the echoing halls, the rich tapestries and draperies, the sounds of laughter and music in the background. Like a museum, in a sense, except one where you could live instead of just pass through. A bit too mineral for his taste, but beautiful.

She shows him the new classrooms for art therapy, as if he was an esteemed colleague just come to check on her progress, talking about her projects as if they'd known each other forever. Before he realises it, he's promising to bring her some indoor jasmine trellises and giant kentia palms for her entrance hall.

It's just one of these places ; you want to be a part of its history, in any way you can.

It makes him wonder what he could do if he accepted his powers fully instead of just treating them like a tool for profit. 

They're almost back at the entrance when she says, 

"I know why you are here. There is something following you, something malevolent. I have been trying to suss it out ever since we started talking, but I cannot figure it out. It troubles me. There is an...ill wind blowing over our city. Be careful, Persephone."

"I have had some ghost issues." He says. "But I have the best exorcist in the city working for me now. It's nothing I can't handle." 

She sighs, and gets something out of her pocket, that she extends to him.

"Give my blessing to this exorcist, then. He is on the frontlines of a combat we soon might all have to engage in."

It's a golden braided necklace, almost weightless. A god token ? Those things take years to make.

"You...why are you helping me ? You don't even know me." 

"We have all been thrown into this without our consent, and I know there is often competition between us to know who will amass the most followers, whose reputation will burn brightest. The media love comparing us, too, and I have indulged in that in the past. But...I think that profits the wrong people. So keep in touch, will you ?" She smiles, after that cryptic pronouncement, and then, she's gone, leaving nothing in her wake but shimmering air.

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


When Eliott meets him outside, Lucas can't help but feel a flash of relief. Part of him thought he might never even come back at all.

He does his best to convey how sorry he is, even though he is probably passing for a condescending douche - but then Eliott smiles and he forgets anything else. 

  
  


_ I'm in this with you now. _

  
  


Gosh. Now he has butterflies in his stomach. Why ?  He doesn't understand what he did to deserve this man's devotion. 

  
  
...

As they walk into the hall of his apartment building and take the elevator, Lucas is struck by sudden inspiration.

  
  


"Wait, I, uh. I forgot to tell you. I cancelled all my appointments tomorrow." He hasn't, but he can do it later. Perks of being the boss. "You can have the day off, take time to recover. I'll go back to the temple."

  
  


Eliott looks at him, surprised, and his expression softens. "Thank you."

  
  


Lucas finds himself blush, for some stupid reason he doesn't understand. He just wanted to show Eliott he wasn't that much of an asshole.

"It's okay. I, uh. I need you in good shape, right ?"

Eliott nods. 

"You don't have to go to the Temple," he responds. "Let's just stay in, and we'll deal with any possible unwanted guests, but otherwise, we can just chill."

  
  


Just chill. Lucas can't remember the last time he did that. Or that he took a day off, for that matter. 

  
  


The elevator dings, opening up on Eliott's floor, and Lucas feels a pang of  _ something _ as he walks out.

"Thank you." He says softly, too late, to the already closed elevator doors.

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  


The next morning, his alarm rings at 04:45 as always, as he forgot to turn it off. He swears and shuts it down, but it's too late.

He tries to fall asleep again - isn't that what people on their day off usually do ? But it's no use. All he can do is toss and turn and realize how big and empty his bed feels. He's never been the type to sleep in anyway, but for a moment, he wishes he was. He wishes he had someone to curl into, warm and sleepy, to hold him as he woke up slowly, and share breakfast in bed with, entangled legs, wandering hands and kisses, soft tingles along his spine….

  
  


Fuck, what is this, menopause ? 

  
  


He wants to slap himself. Instead he grabs his phone and finds one of his favorite porn videos and tries jerking off to it, but it's quick and really unsatisfying and he can't help but notice how much one of the guys in it looks like Eliott, all long lines and skittish grace and smoldering eyes and it brings back images of their night together and fuck, how is his brain so fucking one note. 

He takes a cold shower afterwards, and makes himself a coffee, and walks onto his balcony to admire the skyline as the sun slowly rises on the horizon.

  
  
  


Yeah, this is still pretty incredible, every time. 

  
  
  


His fingers are itching to grab his tablet and start answering his mails, but he pauses himself. He did this for Eliott, sure, but...maybe it can do him some good, too. Unwind, relax. Prove he can be something else than the asshole whose entire life is his job. 

He goes to his home office and grabs a little booklet on one of his lower shelves, one that hasn't seen use in years. It's called  _ So You Have Just Been Chosen by the Fates _ , and it was part of the "introduction package" he was given when he became Persephone. It's written in the style of one of those education books for young teens, with bright colors and text bubbles, but instead of explaining how to deal with your newly raging hormones, it's about how to deal with your new and improved godly self.

Ugh. Whoever wrote this has clearly never talked to an eighteen-year old before. He resists throwing it out of the window, though, and flips through it until he has found the page that interests him. Instructions for a meditation technique called  _ Connect to Your Divine Heart _ .

He brings it with him to the designer sofa in the salon, and sits down on it, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

If he can intensify his connection to his power, maybe..maybe he will be able to keep the ghosts away. After all, aren't his powers connected to life and rebirth ? He should be able to generate a protective energy as least as powerful as the one at Apollo's temple. He used to be able to do this on command, but the last few years, ever since his empire and fortune grew exponentially, his powers have felt...stretched thin. Manifesting things is a lot harder than it once was, and to be frank, he almost never tries anymore.

He takes a few deep breaths, and tries to visualize his heart opening and blossoming into a flower. 

  
  


Nothing.

He opens his eyes. Maybe his exertion has had a more physical effect. But no. His apartment is the same as always, chrome and white and grey, and for a moment, it strikes him how lifeless it all is. Also, this couch really isn't very comfortable, at all.

  
  


He tries again, and again, but the only thing he notices is the rumbling of his empty stomach.

  
  


Fuck. How come he was able to turn his bed into a field of flowers the other day, but now, absolutely nothing ? 

Maybe he  _ would _ have been better off if the book was about raging hormones, huh.

Eventually, he gives up. He makes himself a protein milkshake and turns on the news. 

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


The hours pass by, slow as molasses. Fuck, this is torture. What the fuck do people  _ do _ when they don't work ? 

He almost gives in to the urge of checking his emails several times. But this is a test of willpower. No way he's losing it again.

He sends a text to Imane asking her how she is doing, but he gets no reply. They've never really been the type to text, anyway. 

He reorganizes his closet. It's immaculate already, he has people take care of all this for him anyway, but it's something to do. It strikes him how boring his clothes are, though. Deep blue, grey, black, light grey, dark grey, light blue, brown, steel grey, slate. The most extravagant ensemble he has is a burgundy suit he bought on a whim but never wore. The rest looks like a snapshot of the wardrobe for World's Most Boring Businessman. It's like he wanted to show everyone he was the total opposite of a flower goddess. Serious, mature, powerful, no color, no frills. No personality, no life.

  
  


Fucking depressing, yeah.

  
  


He takes a bath in his massive marble tub with all the bubble jets he almost never uses. It's nice, for twenty minutes, and then it gets old. He starts thinking about what Eliott must be doing right now and how much more fun it would be if he was sitting in the tub with him.

He gets out and makes the mistake of looking at the clock.

15:32 ???? How is it not eight in the afternoon already? 

Fuck, he is this close to start climbing the walls. He should go for a run, except he can't because that would imply disturbing Eliott, who is having a day off. 

He starts to wonder how weird it would be to invite him for dinner. And maybe he could cook ? And start early ? As soon as the idea germinates in his brain, he picks the most complicated meal he can think of and rings the immediate delivery service, which has his kitchen fully stocked barely an hour later.

He starts with the raspberry millefeuille, and then the roasted wagyu beef with tangerine sauce and fried zucchini flowers, and then finally the truffle souffles for the entrees. The process gives him something to focus on, but then suddenly it's eight and the food is ready and he still hasn't asked Eliott to come over. 

He sets the table, delaying the moment of asking, with elegant silverware and plates and candles and a bouquet of sweet peas before realizing how absurdly romantic it all looks and changing everything else again until it looks appropriately casual. 

Finally, he stands in front of his door for ten minutes, thinking of going to knock on Eliotts door, feeling really stupid. The souffles must be ruined by now. 

He chides himself. No need to make this into something it's not. He was bored so he cooked for himself, and now he has extra, so why not share ? Colleagues eat at each other's houses all the time, there isn't anything weird about it.

He opens the door.

Eliott is standing there already, in his hallway, wearing a shirt and what looks a lot like a pair of pajama pants. With little racoon faces on them, which is both somehow adorable, while it would look ridiculous on anyone else, and also really, really kills the "dinner between colleagues" vibe. Eliott raises his arm as if he was about to knock, but the fact that he does it  _ after _ Lucas opens the door makes it highly suspicious. 

  
  
  


Maybe he was waiting in front of the door, too. 

  
  
  


Wow. This is all remarkably stupid. 

  
  
  


Lucas clears his throat. 

  
  
  


"I was about to come and ask if you wanted to come and have dinner with me." He overdoes it and his voice comes out sounding like an executive order, and he flinches. "You don't have to, I mean…"

Eliott blinks at him. "I already ate." Lucas's heart plummets in disappointment. "I was coming to ask if you wanted to watch a movie together." He shows Lucas a DVD box - how quaint. Lucas's heart jumps back up. "And I have ice-cream." He shows Lucas a tub of cheap supermarket chocolate ice cream, which makes Lucas want to ask him if he needs a raise so he can buy himself some decent food, but that would make him a total asshole and he is trying to be less of one. "I mean, I don't want to overstep, but I was bored and I thought...I'm sorry, is this appropriate?"

  
  


Lucas steps aside to let Eliott in.

  
  


"Sure, come in." 

  
  


He takes the ice cream from Eliott's hands to put it in the freezer, intent on having it be forgotten very soon once he can get Eliott to taste his cooking, and when he turns around he sees that Eliott has followed him to the kitchen area, leaning against the counter. Lucas can't help but have a flashback to Eliott being in that same spot not too long ago. Except that time Lucas was kneeling between his legs, mouth stuffed with Eliott's magnificent cock, sucking with all of his might. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel the weight of it on his tongue. 

  
  


God, it was so good. 

  
  


Considering the blush on Eliott's cheeks...it's highly probable that he is thinking about the exact same thing.

  
  


Fuck.

  
  
  


Lucas bites down on his lip. 

  
  


Right now, it's good he has a lot of self control. Because otherwise, there is a good chance he'd be getting on his knees again. And given the look on Eliott's face...it's probable he'd let him. 

No, no. Boundaries.

  
  


"Do you mind if I get myself a plate ? Haven't eaten yet, so…"

  
  


"What ? Uh, no, of course…"

  
  
  


He turns around, and tries to gather himself. He decides to give up on the souffles and gets the beef out, cutting himself a few beautiful slices.

"Wow, that looks amazing." 

"Do you want me to prepare you a small plate ?" He asks lightly, trying not to get the jubilation in his voice become too apparent.

"That would be awesome, actually. I had some really shitty frozen lasagna, so…" 

Damn. He really isn't very good at taking care of himself, isn't he ? 

He finds the tenderest slices of beef and then accompanies them with the most beautiful zucchini flowers he has, and a little bit of mashed peas. 

"Alright, follow me." He says, two plates in hand, making his way to the salon. He presses a button and one entire pan of the wall opens up and slides aside to reveal a home cinema screen. "Go on, sit." He gestures towards the best chair for Eliott, puts his plate down and goes back to get them drinks.

The movie Eliott has brought, he tells Lucas, is a classic. Lucas flinches when he sees the plot involves God incarnations, but it actually turns out to be really good. The story is about a bunch of losers in high school who all are chosen to be gods except one, and how they go on a roadtrip to figure themselves and their new powers out. It's both sweet, with that indie aesthetic that fits Eliott's disheveled-but-cute vibe very well, and surprisingly deep, at times. And very progressive, especially for a movie made thirty years ago. It presents the idea that it's normal for the chosen not to fit their archetypes completely, and that's...still incredibly revolutionary today. 

Eliott disappears into the movie, and Lucas does like it, he does, but he can't help being distracted by the raw emotions playing out on Eliott's face. 

He is just...so into it.

  
  


Towards the end of the movie, the Apollo incarnation kisses his male best friend, the only kid in the group without powers, while they are both sitting on the edge of a river at night. The scene is filmed almost in total dark, probably to avoid censors, and yet what happens is obviously clear. 

Eliott wraps his arms around himself during the scene, and Lucas sees him wrap his fingers around the Apollo necklace, and he can't help but be a bit jealous.

He wonders what kind of godly token _he_ could give to Eliott. He has no clue how those things are even made, just that they take a lot of time and effort and have uncommon power. And that they're a sign of...appreciation. That the human who possesses one is in the special graces of the god in question, like the heroes of old.

Again, Eliott is  _ his _ champion, isn't he ? Was Apollo's gift actually a snide way of implying Lucas was a second rate god, incapable of protecting his own ? Fuck, it's things like these that make him realize there are disadvantages to being so disconnected from his godly side, and the culture that comes with it.

The film finishes on a sunrise, uncertain yet hopeful. 

Eliott turns towards him, expecting Lucas's reaction. "What did you think?"

"It was beautiful." Lucas says. "I think...it would have helped me a lot if I had seen it when I was younger."

"Yes ! Its release was limited originally because some religious organizations didn't like the message." He sighs. "I saw it on a beat up TV in the cultural center of one village we were staying at with my mom for the winter. It saved me, you know. When I saw that kiss...I think I was fifteen and it was the first positive representation I saw of… well, two men together, I guess. I was in a dark place and… yeah. I loved the fact that he was a god and loved someone who was not, I guess. "

"I can understand that." He does. He knows what's it like to grow up so totally isolated from other people like you. "Let me guess," he smiles, "you wanted to be Apollo later. Or...kiss him."

Yes, Eliott, where do you stand on the subject of kissing gods ?

Eliott presses his lips together, blushing again, a little grin at the corner of his lips.

"Maybe a little. But mostly I...in that scene, I wanted to be the river. To simply be alive in a world where love like that is possible." He sighs.

That's both very beautiful and very sad. The purity of loving something for its simple existence without seeing yourself as a part of it.

"But yeah, I had my god-groupie wannabe obsessed phase like most teens," he chuckles. "Funny to think I actually made good on that." Then he realises what he's just said. "I mean, uh. Not that I knew...and I'm not obsessed…" he stammers, panic in his eyes.

Lucas takes pity on him. "Oh yeah ? Any favorites ?" 

"Yeah, Apollo, I guess, and Artemis. And uh…" he pauses.

"Come on, I won't be mad." 

  
  


"I always thought Hades would...but maybe that was my emo phase."

Lucas can't help but laugh. Of course. Sometimes it seems like everyone _but_ him is super into the idea of Hades.

  
  


"Well, at least you're not a Zeus fan, because that would have been difficult to overlook." He lets himself sink deep into the couch, to parallel Eliott lying across the chair. This feels like a pajama party now. "Hades...yeah, alright. I get it. Sounds very intense and hot, in a dark gothy way. But also kind of a fucking douchebag, you know, all domineering and brooding like an asshole. Like ho ho ho bitch, I'm the king of the underworld, I have a face like an ass with a pucker in the middle, but I still think I'm hot shit."

"Wasn't that the previous Hades ?" 

"Yeah...maybe I'm biased, but still. I hope whoever got the Hades essence after that burned out rockstar with the greasy hair gave it a good rinse in the wash because I would not want to share vibes with that guy. Previous Persephone was a neurasthenic but at least she knew about showers."

Eliott laughs. "You don't...seem to have a great opinion of the guy. Aren't you two supposed to get together at some point ?"

Lucas frowns. "Well, he didn't get the memo. And honestly, if he doesn't want me, he's a moron and it's his loss.” It always stings a bit, that subject, he's defensive as a reflex.

  
  


“Maybe he’s not hiding from you, though. Maybe he just...doesn’t feel up to the task. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of being a god.” 

  
  


Lucas frowns. “Really ? And forgo all the glory, power, eternal fame ? I don’t think that’s very likely.” He scoffs. “That would throw the Fates for a loop, though. They’re so keen on making it my fault.” 

  
  
  


He turns towards Eliott. The concept of his divine consort is so far away, right now, and he finds he doesn’t really care.

“What about you ? What did you think about Persephone?" In that instant, it's a lot more interesting to him.

"I, uh...not a lot, to be honest. I used to think she was a bit one note. I never thought she could be so...well." He makes a little pause and then smiles softly,"...you." 

Eliott's cheeks are red but his eyes are so full of wonder, and reverence, right then, it goes straight to Lucas's heart. And, uh, lower. 

"You know, watching that movie," Eliott continues, "I always thought it was a nice ideal, that the gods were not so rigidly defined, that we...that they were still people, but in real life it has always felt so...heavy. Fate and all that shit." He sounds so sad. Lucas wonders how the hell it comes that he sounds like he is talking from experience. "But you...The way you just...don't care about what you're supposed to be...if I had to sleep with just one God in my life, I'm glad it ended up being you. I know we're not supposed to talk about it but...it does feel like a blessing, now. Not working for you, that's for sure," he smirks, "but that night, yes."

Eliott's words make an incredible warmth blossom in the middle of his chest.

_ You're a blessing, _ Lucas wants to reply,  _ and a torment, all at once.  _

And fuck, he is so close to say  _ would you like to be blessed again ? _ But that would reach a new low in terms of pick up lines. 

"Thank you," Lucas says instead. "No one's ever said that before. People who know generally...freak out."

Eliott winces. "I'm sorry I walked out on you that morning. I have a...complicated history with magic."

"It's fine. I might have kicked you out anyway."

Eliott raises his eyebrows.

"Like you said, I am an asshole. And...to be honest, my situation makes intimacy difficult. So sometimes it's easier to…"

"I get it. Well, not entirely, but…" He sighs. " I have had...trouble with my powers. I've had to keep moving because a lot of people start to hate you when they learn you have powers related to death. Sometimes they want your help, but they don't want you in their village, and even less in their family."

  
  


"I'm sorry. That's awful." 

  
  


Eliott shrugs and raises his wine glass. "Well, here's to one night stands, am I right ?"

  
  


Lucas laughs and raises his in turn. For some reason, the awkwardness around the subject seems to have melted away completely. And he really really likes for them to be able to talk like this.

"Thank you for the food." Eliott continues. "That was so much better than my frozen lasagna. Did you have a chef secretly helicoptered to your kitchen, or….?"

At 200 a pound, it had better taste better than frozen dinner, but Lucas shuts up about that.

"No ! I made it all myself !" He can't keep the pride out of his voice.

"Really ?" 

"Why the skepticism ? I wasn't raised with a silver spoon in my mouth, you know. Besides, I got really bored. I needed something to do."

Eliott still narrows his eyes in skepticism.

"Guess I will have to cook for you when you're in the room, then, next time." Lucas says. "I mean...if you want to. You don't have to." He adds hastily.

"I would like that." Eliott says softly. Then with a smirk. "I am extraordinarily bad at cooking. I worked at a restaurant once and they kept me on for two months out of pity but then I set somebody's apron on fire and then…"

Lucas laughs. "Good thing I'm not very flammable then. I mean…" Eliott laughs and Lucas feels something squeeze at his heart. He looks so soft like that.

He sighs. "Eliott, you know you don't have to pretend to be friendly with me for this job, right ?" 

"I am not pretending." Eliott says stubbornly. "Are you ?" 

Lucas shakes his head.

"Ok, good. Because we're probably going to go through some pretty intense shit together still. So...it would be better if we could be ...friendly. I guess." 

"I agree." Lucas says, trying not to appear too desperate.

"Does that mean I get to call you an asshole when you actually deserve it, too ?" Eliott says with a measure of delight in his eyes. 

Lucas sighs, internally. He is usually way too prickly for even gentle ribbing, but…"Sure."

"Good. Consider me your new asshole-wrangler, then."

"Just don't let other people see it too much, otherwise they'll get ideas. I have a reputation, you know." 

Eliott's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles - he's one of those people who smile with their entire face. 

"Your secret is safe with me." He whispers. "I won't tell anyone you're not as much of a jerk as you let on."

Lucas feels a rush of warmth, all of a sudden, and he has to look away.

  
  


He's so fucked.

  
  


"Do you, uh, want dessert ?" 

"Ah, yeah, sure, we still have the ice cream, right ?"

"Eliott, now that we're friends, I have to be very frank, there is no way either of us are eating that garbage. Not under my roof." 

Eliott rolls his eyes. Lucas usually can't stand when people roll his eyes at him, but Eliott...when he does it, he feels like they share an inside joke. Even when Eliott is just making fun of his pretentious food habits.

  
  


He is extra fucked. Without any fucking even happening, which, honestly, is the worst kind of being fucked. 

  
  
  


…

Eliott eating the raspberry millefeuille is a sight that is going to remain engraved in his brain for a long, long time, especially the noises he makes, and his tongue peeking out to lick the last trace of cream from his lips, and…

  
  


"You know you're kind of screwing yourself over with this right ?"

  
  


"What do you mean ?" Lucas laughs nervously.

"Well, now, everytime I have a sugar craving, I might be tempted to knock on your door." He licks his spoon clean. "Or do you want me to have to buy that sad ice cream again ?"

Lucas swallows. 

"I, uh...with all of the ghosts you're saving me from, i really don't mind giving you a treat once in a while." 

"That's very nice of you." Eliot stares at him. "I really feel I should treat myself more often. It's so easy to forget we have needs sometimes, you know ?" He's looking at Lucas's lips now. 

Alright, Lucas might be functioning at reduced brain capacity, but there is no way either of them isn’t noticing how sexual this entire conversation has turned. 

There are a thousand delicious scenarios his brain could come up with right now, about what he really wants for dessert. But since he's still the boss, he has to be the responsible one. 

He clears his throat. "I appreciate your dedication to taking care of yourself. So, uh, in that line of thought, we maybe should go to bed now, since it's late and we are getting back to work tomorrow."

Eliott blinks and looks at him, slightly dazed, as if he'd just gotten out of a trance.

"Um...sure. Sure." He shakes his head and smiles. "Thanks for dinner." He gets up, and Lucas does the same. 

"Thanks for the movie. Let's do it again sometimes." 

Eliott nods, a touch of eagerness in there that maybe Lucas is making up completely, but...

He accompanies Eliott to the entrance. It's gotten very awkward all of a sudden. 

As Eliott steps out of his apartment he turns around and for the briefest of moments, Lucas thinks that he is going to kiss him. But he just smiles at him and says, 

"I'm glad we're friends now. I don't have a lot of friends."

There is something about the vulnerability and softness with which he speaks that absolutely floors Lucas, and he doesn't think that friends is really what either of them wants to be to each other and yet in this moment, being Eliott's friend seems like something extraordinary all on its own.

  
  


"Yeah. Me too."

…

  
  


When he gets back to his salon to clean up the remainers of their dinner, he notices that on the chair Eliott was sitting in, at the curve of the leather that must still be warm from the heat of his body, bright white with a heart of orange fire, has sprung a single, tall, beautiful narcissus flower.

  
  


Yeah. 

  
  


Extra super fucked. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time : Eliott finds his boss has changed a lot recently, and some important new characters enter the game


	7. Chapter 6 - Eliott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the other gods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't seen it, reminder I am updating the fic on Mondays and Thursdays every week if all goes well ! 
> 
> In this chapter...Plot Attacks ! And thinks get serious. Enjoy <3
> 
> cw: electrocution

  
  
  
  


Chapter 6 - Eliott

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


So...they're friends now. 

  
  


It's a nice change of pace. He's stopped dreading going to work, even though the threats of ghosts still looms heavy over him, but weirdly, ever since their day off, they only have had a few minor hauntings. 

Maybe the ghosts really do take advantage of them being vulnerable and tired. He's said so to Lucas - he's become Lucas to him now, so naturally that neither of them noticed when they change took place, and Lucas said they should make those days off a more regular thing. 

Days off  _ together _ , somehow, it became implied in their conversation. And Eliott knows he likes the idea more than he should, that really he should want to have more time away from his grumpy, demanding boss, but...somehow there is something about Lucas's crankiness that he has started to find endearing rather than annoying. And his behavior has improved a lot as of late ; he's not throwing tantrums anymore.

  
  


He's also had several meetings where he asked Eliott to wait outside, even sending Jeremy to get him a coffee or any other beverage of his choice, and Eliott's recognized it as an attempt to give him more breathing room. 

  
  


He's taken to carrying a drawing pad and some pencils with him to pass the time. It's strange - drawing and painting used to be his passion when he was a kid, something he was considering making his career, even, but once he had to go on the run, he completely left it behind. He feels rusty, now. But the instincts come back very quickly. He draws little details around him, faces from memory of all the people Lucas meets, and of course, the myriad flowers that pop up everywhere in his path. 

Sometimes it makes him wonder if people knowingly have flowers brought over whenever they know he will be there - trying to get in his good graces, hidden offerings to a god who doesn't want to be one.

  
  


...

There is one meeting that Eliott accompanies Lucas into, and it's an ordeal for both of them ; Lucas has to deal with a bullish, loud rival CEO that he sadly can't do without and who keeps making snide remarks to Lucas's "flowery condition" and how it probably means he can't keep a cool head for business. For once, he finds himself admiring Lucas's self control. He would have decked the man.

As they leave, in the car, Eliott makes a drawing of the man as a walrus with an exaggerated shouting expression, all puffy with red eyes, and a speech bubble that says " _ Cool heaaaaaad for buuuusineeeees. I have a cooool heead for busssssineeees _ ." Underneath his torso there is a stand with cut fish heads. It's not even that funny but when he shows it to Lucas he bursts into laughter, and laughs for five straight minutes, so hard he gets tears in his eyes. Then he thanks Eliott for "saving his day" and carefully folds the drawing and puts it in his pocket. 

After that, it becomes a bit of a habit, caricatures of the people that annoy Lucas as various animals. Only the rich and influential, though - he's going to keep telling Lucas off whenever he is an ass to service workers, but luckily that happens a lot less. He is really making an effort, Eliott realizes, and the idea that he has anything to do with that is…is destabilizing. 

...

This suspicion gets confirmed a few days later. Eliott is sitting in the lobby area of a huge rival company, and this time Jeremy is waiting with him, typing frantically on his phone. But then he pauses and stares at Eliott for a minute. 

  
  


"I wanted to say...thank you." 

  
  


"Uh...what for ?" 

  
  


"For talking to Mr. Lallemant the other day. And...in general. I don't know what you're doing exactly but he's been so much nicer recently. He even apologized to me the other day." 

Oh, wow. Honestly...the idea that he can have such an impact on Lucas's behavior is really strange. He's always seen himself as a taciturn, antisocial person. Really not the type to teach anyone about manners.

"It must be the reprieve in ghosts," Eliott suggests. "I think it probably must help, to not have a rotten corpse coming at you for breakfast every morning.” 

“Yeah... “ He doesn’t sound very convinced. "He wasn't like this before the ghosts either, though."

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  
  


About a week after their day off, as they come home, Lucas invites Eliott up for dinner again. 

He leads Eliott to the kitchen counter - goddammit, _that_ kitchen counter - and serves him a glass of wine. Eliott sits down on one of the bar stools and watches as Lucas starts to cook. 

He is showing off, that becomes evident quickly, in the way he slices vegetables at lightning speed and manages to crack an egg by throwing it on a knife. Eliott can't help but stare at him open mouthed and Lucas obviously relishes the attention. He’s making burgers, but a very fancy version, with a julienne of spicy vegetables roasted in a sauce with whiskey, delicious melted cheese, pickled onions, mushrooms, juicy meat, and an egg on top. They eat at the bar, and it’s a messy but delicious affair. 

  
  


“Holy fuck, this is incredible. I take back what I said about you hiding a chef in your cupboards.”

Lucas laughs. 

“Well, I admit, I did take classes with a chef, so, you weren’t entirely wrong.” 

  
  


“That makes sense. Honestly, I wish I could come and eat here every night.” Shit. That’s way too forward. It’s just so easy to get flirty when he’s around Lucas. Way too easy. “I mean...I don’t want to impose.”

“Ah well, I don’t think even I can maintain that consistent level of showing off,” he admits with a playful glint in his eye. “You’re welcome to come and share the takeout food, though. There are some amazing restaurants in the area.” 

  
  


A lot of unsaid things are hanging in the air between them. The fact that they’re both lonely. The fact that Lucas really hasn’t gone out clubbing to pick up guys at all lately. The fact that their relationship is taking an extremely weird turn - boss and employee, but Lucas also depends on Eliott for his life, and they’re sort of friends, but that doesn’t explain why so many of their conversations devolve into innuendos and heated stares. And the other night, after the movie, the way Lucas had asked,  _ what do you think of Persephone, _ it almost sounded like...he wanted Eliott to worship him. 

  
  


Fuck. 

  
  


Eliott manages a throwaway joke and they move to the salon. Lucas serves them whiskey in expensive-looking tumbler glasses, and the burn in Eliott's throat is delicious. For a moment, they just sit there, in the half dark, and he can see Lucas slowly wind down, a hand through his hair making them dishevelled, opening the buttons on his collar, sinking into his favorite chair. Eliott can see the transformation happen, how he slowly lets go of his mask of fiery determination, becomes softer, more hazy. 

  
  


It makes him want to…push, see him unravel further. See what he hides under there.

  
  


"No dessert this time ?" The words come out before he has finished thinking them.

  
  


Lucas casts him an amused look. "My, my, look at you, developing standards."

  
  


"Last time was pretty hard to forget." He says, feeling the insolence in his own voice. 

  
  


He can see in Lucas's eyes that he knows Eliott isn't talking about dessert anymore. He frowns, and holds Eliott's gaze, lost between annoyance and obvious lust. Eliott tips his head back, delighted to be leading the charge for once, and smiles at him slowly in a manner he hopes says  _ I know you want me _ . He doesn't know why he is acting this way, he knows he is being an idiot but there is something so intoxicating about tugging a little on that bond between them…

  
  


Lucas gets up in a rush, and turns around.

  
  


"We need a plan." His voice is slightly wavering, as if he is trying hard to keep it under control. "On how to get rid of the ghosts."

He isn't wrong. But Eliott doesn't really care about ghosts right now.

  
  


"Are you that eager to get rid of me ?" 

  
  


Lucas turns around, eyes intense, annoyed frown aggravated.

  
  


"You can't possibly want to shadow me forever, can you ?" 

  
  


Eliott licks his lips. 

"I might miss this, though." He doesn't specify what this is. He'll leave that to Lucas's imagination. 

Lucas takes a step forward, until he stands between Eliott's legs, and for a moment Eliott has a wild thought that he is going to kneel down and make a move on him. But he just stands there, looking down on him.

  
  


"You could still come around. Even if you didn't work for me anymore. We could…" His voice is low, almost a whisper.

  
  
  


They're both very good at leaving things unsaid. What Eliott gets here is that Lucas still wants him, but their situation prevents him from acting on it. He is very open, however, to the idea of going there once the professional bond between them is dissolved.

  
  


For a second Eliott lets himself indulge in the fantasy. That somehow all these hauntings had a human origin, a curse they could unwind. Exorcising the last ghost. Lucas giving him a handsome severance package and helping him to find his next job, and thereby dissolving the ties of hierarchy and obligations of professionalism between them. Inviting Eliott over for a drink to celebrate. Lasting all of five minutes before pulling Lucas up and flattening him onto that fucking kitchen counter. Tearing apart those expensive clothes, and having his way with him in every single room, not caring if the place turns into a fucking jungle by the end of it. And...not running away, the next morning.

  
  


Fuck, it would be so nice. But he can't. Because he is Hades, and Persephone doesn't want him, and letting loose like that would inevitably lead to the discovery of his nature, and then he would be rejected, found out, and banished to the darkness of the underworld forever.

  
  


He exhales. Looks into Lucas's eyes. And gods, they make him want to believe he could. Indulge in that fantasy for just a while longer.

  
  


"Yeah. We could." He says softly. Is it bad to lead Lucas on a little ? He loves the way Lucas looks at him in that instant, so much. Nobody has ever looked at him that way. It’s so much, so soon. 

Affection. Fondness. Promise. A desire so intense it could scorch the walls.

It's too much. He closes his eyes, and only opens them up again when he’s heard Lucas sitting down. 

“Let’s find the bastards that are sending me curses, then.” Lucas says. Eliott opens his eyes and sees that he has his glass raised. He mimics the gesture. This is getting to be a thing with them. 

  
  


“Let’s.” 

  
  
  


… 

  
  


After that, their relationship both settles and deepens. The tension between them is less uncertain, less fraught with annoyance and avoidance. It gains in intimacy but neither of them seem to be so embarrassed about it. Instead, it almost becomes something like an inside joke. Lucas will catch him looking at him during a meeting and instead of pretending nothing happened, the corner of his mouth will quirk up in a little smile, as if to say,  _ patience. _

It’s such an alluring fantasy. And Eliott hates himself for being so weak. He should cut off any of Lucas’s attempts to get familiar with him. All of this is going to create massive hurt somewhere down the line, and it will be on him, all of it, for keeping his identity a secret. 

If they do manage to solve Lucas’s ghost problems...Eliott isn’t going to stick around. He can’t. If he does, eventually, he would have to tell Lucas the truth, and Lucas would get so incredibly angry, feel so betrayed, he might very well denounce him to the Fates he has been running from. Disappearing into thin air will probably be the less painful option for everyone. So...he shouldn’t let Lucas believe that this  _ something _ more between them will ever be allowed to blossom into more than it is. 

But he’s spending most of his waking hours with the man, and he doesn’t have anyone else here in the big city - well, to be honest, he doesn’t have anyone at all. And it’s just so fun, sometimes, to make Lucas laugh with his little drawings, to share stories and jokes. To actually become real friends. He is starting to realize how deeply he has deprived himself of any human warmth, for years, and now that he has it again...the idea of willingly cutting himself off from it…

  
  


So he lingers there, on that threshold between a fugitive past and an impossible future, and he finds himself hoping it stretches on for a while. But not long enough for them to get hurt, either. It’s going to be a very delicate balance to maintain. Eliott can guess why there have been less ghosts recently - Hades and Persephone bonding, somehow, must settle the undead. 

But they still have very human enemies to contend with. Lucas has told him about the religious fundamentalists that have been increasingly aggressive towards him. That’s worrying to him on several levels. These are people who could unmask him. And the fact that they call themselves devotees of the gods but are capable of such violence towards one of their incarnations…

  
  


He’s worried for Lucas’s life. And he can’t keep this small instant of warmth for himself at the expanse of his well being. So, they will have to figure this out sooner rather than later. 

  
  


Their busy schedule doesn’t leave them a lot of time for that, though. 

  
  


And so, eventually, it’s their enemies that come from them first. 

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  


One morning very early, while he is still getting ready, he receives a text from Lucas, telling him to meet him upstairs. 

Once he gets there, he meets Lucas, still half dressed, tv blaring news in the kitchen, who extends a tablet to him. 

NEW LAW SEEKS TO CURB GODLY BUSINESS, the headline reads.

_ "Godly incarnations should be paragons of virtue that people can look up to and emulate," says Mathilde Meunier, of the Blessed Society for the Promulgation of Temperance and Piety, who introduced the law to the Agora. "They shouldn't dabble in materialistic affairs and use their powers for gain. Our new law seeks to prevent all the excesses we have seen as of late." _ Eliott reads and swallows.

"This is a direct attack against me." Lucas says, his voice rough. "They don't like that my money and power allow me to keep myself out of the influence of the Fates. And since the ghosts don't seem to be doing the job…" He laughs bitterly. "If this thing passes...I could lose everything."

Fuck. Ghosts, Eliott can handle, but this...He can't do anything about this. He doesn't know anything about how the political system of the city works. He's an uncultured nobody from a backwater town, he's... useless.

  
  


"I'm sorry." He doesn't know what to say.

  
  


"Don't worry about it. I don't pay you for legal advice, don't I?" There is a level of acid he hadn't heard in Lucas's voice for quite a while. 

Eliott can see the fear in his eyes. If he has learnt anything from these last few weeks, it's that Lucas values his independence above almost everything else. And Eliott can understand. It seems as if his money is the equivalent of Eliott's magical shield, the thing that prevents the Fates from taking over every single inch of their lives.

He wishes he knew how to make this better. He's gotten used to being the one Lucas looks to for protection. But this reminds him how powerless he is - how they ultimately both are, in the end. 

  
  


"It's going to be alright," he says softly.

  
  


"Oh really ? You're a seer now as well as an exorcist ?" 

  
  


Eliott's heart crimps in. He can see Lucas's behavior for what it is, now. He is scared, so he is lashing out again. 

He can understand it, but that doesn't make being on the end of it any more fun. 

"No, but I trust your abilities to fix this."

Lucas has a little wavering laugh. "Yeah, and what if I can't? What if I worked so hard and made all this money and in the end it means nothing? They can just waltz in and…and dictate my life anyway…?" 

His phone buzzes, surprising them both. 

  
  


He picks up and listens. He doesn't say much, but his face becomes increasingly grim. 

  
  


When the call ends, he looks at Eliott with barely contained nervousness.

"That was Zeus' assistant. He is calling a meeting of all the gods."

  
  


Holy shit. 

  
  


All the gods ? As in, the people Eliott spent his life running from ?

What if they see right through his mask and recognize him ? 

  
  


His first Instinct is to melt into the ground. 

But he can't do that, he can't bail now. Lucas needs him. 

  
  
  


…

  
  


He doesn’t know much about Zeus, except that he is the ruler of the Pantheon, and a massive asshole even in the most edulcorated myths. So in reality…well, maybe there was a subversion, too, but he still has a bad feeling about this.

His fears are anything but quashed when they stop in front of a sumptuous mansion in one of the poshest districts of the town - Lucas’s penthouse is close to the business center, and there is luxury there, but this is something else, ostentatious and flashy in a way that makes him uncomfortable.

“Listen,” Lucas says to him, concern in his eyes. “Zeus is a piece of shit. So it’s very important you remain…as unobtrusive as possible. For both our sakes. I don’t want him to know I have issues and I don’t want to give him an excuse to mess with you.”

Eliott nods. He very, very much agrees. “Promise not to make any drawings, then.” He tries a little smile. But Lucas doesn’t answer, too preoccupied, and charges ahead.

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


The front of the house is ornated with white columns, in a pretentious imitation of antique temples. After that, they are walked past a vast inner courtyard with a fountain in the middle, to a second entrance, by a sour faced butler in an impeccable livery. They enter a hall full of portraits and crystal chandeliers. The place screams old money ; whoever this Zeus was before he got chosen, he is definitely not a self-made man.

Finally, they are introduced into a salon, decorated in shades of deep red with heavy curtains and a roaring fireplace, already full of people.

For a moment, Eliott completely forgets his place as he is swept up in the gathered energy.

  
  
  


These are Gods, all of them.

  
  
  


His people, he realizes, and he feels something rush up from the most hidden part of him, a wave of energy, earthy and deep and welcoming - but he pushes it down in a panic.

They look at him with a confused look, and Eliott realises he’s walked to the center of the room while he should have stayed by the entrance with the other bodyguards. Fuck.

  
  
  
  


He backtracks, hoping they will focus on Lucas now.

  
  


Thankfully, his boss’s tendency to capture all the attention in a room works in his favor.

  
  


“Well, hello there ! Did everyone miss me ?” Eliott recognizes the edge in Lucas’ voice from some of his more difficult meetings. He’s gearing up for a fight.

There is an awkward silence.

“Well by all means, don’t all rush to welcome me at once,” Lucas says acidly.

“Persephone, you cagey bastard, where have you been ?” A man says, and comes forward to wrap Lucas in a hug, breaking through the awkwardness. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and black skin, his hair shaved on the sides and forming a curly mass, almost wavelike, on the top of his head.

“Poseidon,” Lucas says, responding to the hug with a mix of annoyance and affection.

The god of the sea, Eliott muses. Known for being tempestuous and difficult to propiate. That’s not exactly the vibe he senses, coming from the man. Although he is wearing a bright blue sweater and what Eliott can now see is a seashell necklace. He seems…tranquil. That’s strange. Eliott wonders if it’s another case of …being cast against type.

The other gods come to greet Lucas, although none of them have the courtesy of introducing themselves for Eliott’s sake.

One of the women smiles at him, and nods slightly in his direction. Her aura has something sunny and pleasant about it, which he recognizes from his protective necklace. That must be Apollo, then. He is somewhat touched by her paying attention to him.

“So we’re all here, then ?” Lucas asks. “The big leagues ?”

“You don’t know our Pantheon very well, do you ?” An older woman says ruefully.

“Well, Zeus is late as usual,” another woman says with pinched lips. “And of course, Hades and Hecate, who are both still unaccounted for. Bunch of irresponsible…”

Eliott’s ears perk up. Hecate is also missing ? He didn’t know that. Then again, she is the goddess of witchcraft and hidden things. It seems somewhat more fitting for her to disappear. And she doesn’t have any main responsibilities when it comes to keeping the dead in check and turning the seasons.

“Oh yeah,” a man with curly dark blonde hair and glasses says. “who wouldn’t want to miss all the shits and giggles, right ?” He’s already drinking. “Honestly, I don’t blame them for wanting to skip the family reunion.”

“Don’t be such a bummer, man. There’s good wine ! That should be enough to bring us closer.” An old, red faced man says, his head covered in a garland of yellowing ivy leaves. Is that Dionysos ? He looks…in very bad shape. 

The doors swing open, and the man making a dramatic entrance doesn’t need to be introduced - brown hair, shining teeth and smug smile, blazer monogrammed with lightning bolts. Even Eliott has seen him in the news, much as he’s tried to avoid them - Zeus, darling of the Fates and king of the Gods. 

Eliott immediately hates him. 

  
  
  


“Welcome ! Welcome all !” He walks to the middle of the room. “No time for pleasantries. My fellow Olympians, the hour is dire. Our citizens are displeased with us, very displeased indeed.” He takes a pause, affecting a deep air that somehow lands between self-absorbed and slightly constipated. “And we all know who is to blame for that, don’t we ?” 

  
  
  


His eyes, along with all the others in the room, turn towards Lucas, and Eliott feels his stomach drop to the floor. But Lucas lifts his chin, with an air of defiance. 

  
  
  


“Persephone, you’ve had your fun. But it’s time to settle down now, and grow up. By your behavior, you’re putting us all at risk.”

  
  
  


“Seriously ?” Lucas laughs, incredulously. He looks around the room. “Seriously ?” 

  
  
  
  


Some of the Gods seem to agree with Charles, others not, but all of them keep silent. There is fear in their eyes. 

  
  
  


“Alright, I see, this is a trial, huh ? Well, fuck off. I thought we could discuss this problem and talk strategy, not find an easy scapegoat. But of course not.” 

  
  
  


“You need to face your responsibilities, Persephone.” Zeus continues with a heavy voice. “We were all made with a purpose, and this is yours. You need to calm down, and become someone Hades won’t be ashamed to have at his arm. Go to the temple in prayer, and purify yourself, and ready yourself for marriage.”

  
  
  


Lucas laughs, vicious. “Rich of you to say, you souped up windbag. All you do is spend your time partying and fucking around. But because of fate russian roulette, that’s okay for you ? And somehow gives you authority over us ? Fuck that, and fuck fate.” 

He sounds as if he has been wanting to say this for a long time.

“You don’t -” Zeus starts again, but Lucas cuts him off.

  
  
  


“I’m not fucking done. We all profit from our godhood, but somehow I’m the only one who should be ashamed ? Maybe it’s not me Hades is avoiding. Maybe it’s all of you, you fucking hypocrites. And good for him ! He should fucking stay gone. So no, I’m not going to ‘face my responsibilities’. Maybe you’re the ones who should grow up, and tell the Fates they can’t control every inch of your fucking life ! Stop being such a bunch of cowards !”

  
  
  


Eliott feels a painful flight of affection towards this man. He’s such an idiot sometimes, but right now, he’s absolutely fearless. He wishes he could tell those idiots that Lucas is right. It’s them that Hades is avoiding, it’s this whole circus. 

  
  
  


If it suits Lucas then he would stay hidden from them forever. 

  
  
  


“That’s enough.” Zeus growls, and his eyes light up electric gold. 

He raises his hands, and lightning appears between his fingers and palms. It immediately reaches towards Lucas, like a grabbing net. Eliott springs forward, but he feels someone holding him back. It’s Poseidon, and he’s too strong for Eliott to push away.

Lucas gasps in pain as the lightning reaches him and envelops him, dropping his phone on the floor. 

  
  
  


“You really overestimate the importance of your consent in all this.” Zeus says as he moves closer, voice low, hands like claws. Lucas curls forward, a whine escaping his lips, his face distorted by pain. “We could very easily lock you up in a temple until you learn your lesson, you know…”

  
  
  


Eliott feels something dark roar to life in his chest, and this time there is no fucking way he’s going to be able to shove it down -

  
  
  


“Zeus, stop !” A woman’s voice calls out. 

  
  
  


Strangely, Zeus stops, and turns towards her. 

  
  
  


“Yes, my Hera ?” He says, his voice between possessive and threatening. All the gods turn towards the woman who spoke. She’s slight, a brunette with blue-green eyes, and clearly afraid, but there is also a note of authority in her voice. 

  
  
  


“There is no need for violence. We can help him see it our way, can’t we ? Maybe all he needs is a woman’s touch.” She walks forward, and goes to Lucas from where he is now curled up on himself, down on the plush carpet and helps him up. His face is pale with shock, his lips trembling. 

  
  
  


Zeus laughs dismissively. “Maybe you’re right.” He rubs his palms together and turns back his genial smile on. It looks so fake. All the gods in the audience looks scared, and Eliott feels sick. Is Zeus really so powerful that nobody else dares speak up against him, apart from his godly consort, and even she seems terrified of him ?

  
  
  


Lucas shakes Hera loose, and makes a beeline for the exit. Eliott goes after him, at a loss for what to do. Thankfully nobody stops them. 

  
  
...

Once they’re in the courtyard, he asks hurriedly,

  
  
  


“Lucas, are you ok ?”

  
  
  


Lucas is staring straight ahead, walking fast, as if he didn’t hear Eliott. 

  
  
  


“Hey, Persephone !” someone shouts behind them. “Persephone !” Lucas keeps walking as if he didn’t hear anything. “Wait ! Lucas !” 

  
  
  


At the mention of his real name, Lucas pauses. Catching up with him are Poseidon, the man with the glasses, and another one, with curly brown hair and a slightly lunar expression. 

  
  
  


“What ? Are you here to teach me a lesson, too ?”

  
  
  


“No. No !” Poseidon says. “What he did there…that was wrong.” 

  
  
  


“But not wrong enough for you to do anything about it.”

  
  
  


“He took us all by surprise, he…you know how powerful he is. But…maybe we can still work together. To deal with that law thing. You weren’t wrong, you know. The Fates are way too controlling.” 

  
  
  


“Forget about it.” Lucas says, voice dark. “If you’re not able to stand up to Charles, how the fuck do you think you’re going to be able to stand up to the Fates, huh ? I’m stronger on my own. I’ll figure it out.”

  
  
  


“Lucas…” the curly haired man tries to grab his arm, and Lucas wrenches himself free.

  
  
  


“Don’t fucking touch me. Just…save it, alright ? I don’t care about your pity or your sympathy. I know all you care about is your cushy little lives with all your followers and your easy jobs. We’re just a bunch of people randomly thrown together, we’re not a family, we don’t owe each other anything. I just got stuck with the short end of the stick, and that’s not your problem.” 

  
  
  


He starts walking again, and Eliott hurries after him, and they only stop when they’re finally in the car, and it tears away. 

Eliott wants to - to hug him, to wrap that scarf Lucas gave him back around his neck, to do something - but the mix of fragility, humiliation and anger Lucas exudes at the moment makes him too nervous to do anything.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly. 

  
  


“Zeus has…” Lucas says shakily, “Zeus’s powers are stronger than all of us put together. That’s why he’s the king, I guess. He’s just more powerful. But he’s a fucking asshole, always. The only one that can match him is Hades. They say that’s why he got put in charge of the Underworld, back when the gods still walked the Earth, to make sure he wasn’t in Zeus’s way. But, well, that fucker isn’t there, so…I have to deal with this shit alone.”

  
  


Hades’s powers match those of Zeus, the king of the Pantheon ? Really ? Nobody ever told him that. He always thought Hades was a glorified cemetery guardian. 

  
  
  


Fuck. 

  
  
  


“Do you want him to be there ?” 

  
  


“No.” Lucas says, clenching his jaw. “No. I’ll take them all on my own, if I have to. They can choke. All of them.”

  
  
  


And Eliott sees that he means it, too, and he feels a rush of fear. There are fights closing in on them from each side. How long will he be able to sit on the sidelines, most of his power benched ? 

  
  


Especially when someone...someone he is starting to care about a lot more than he should is under threat. And someone he is pretty sure is _not_ going to take this laying down.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah i mean...Charles as Zeus, isnt' it a given, like....
> 
> Next time : Lucas gets angry, and it's time for some illicit landscaping


	8. Chapter 7 - Lucas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his confrontation with Zeus, Lucas goes off the rails, and Eliott tries to watch over him as best he can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter drama ! And the reappearance of asshole Lucas...sorry (but just a bit lol, he remains very interesting) 
> 
> thank you very much to everyone leaving feedback, especially the few essay-comments I've got, what a pleasure they are to read, even if i don't always have time to answer, i appreciate you all sooooo much <3
> 
> cw : drugs, mentions of risky sexual behavior, bad headspace, mature content
> 
> enjoy !

_Chapter 7 - Lucas_

  
  
  
  
  


The humiliation burns a hole in his chest as the car takes them far away from Zeus' mansion. 

The lightning hurt, but it's nothing he can't handle. After all, godhood comes with resistance to injury, and speedy recovery. He won't have any after-effects.

It's the feeling he can't shake. Of being powerless in front of his peers - of having his confidence dismissed as a parlor trick, of being unmasked as a weak, vulnerable thing, and being able to do nothing about it. Of being alone and having nothing but his bluster, and having that taken away from him.

  
  


And he hates that Eliott saw it. He wants Eliott to see him as cool and powerful and unflappable, not this pathetic thing curling up on a carpet, and god, what he wouldn't give to have Hades' powers instead, so he could shut up Zeus himself.

  
  


But no, it's just him and his fucking flowers.

  
  


…

  
  


He spends the rest of the day in a daze. He goes to his scheduled meetings, but it's all...off. He feels like people are looking at him strangely. Do they know about the law ? Are they starting to wonder whether getting associated with him could turn into a liability?

Imane calls him. He ignores her.

He is trying to maintain control, but the anger and fear are growing inside him, a restlessness that buzzes in his veins and eats at his brain.

He's worked so fucking hard for what he has now. He’s given up so much. He's made himself into a man of metal, every second of his life engineered to perfection, squeezing all the life out and...And now he holds the city in the palm of his hand - or that’s what he thought. He thought it would be worth it. He thought it would make him free, untouchable, out of the grasp of fate. He thought it would allow him to write his own reality.

But the truth is...it's all an illusion. Numbers on a screen, his signature on documents, his influence over people, a heap of glass and stones. It's all virtual. What does he _really_ have ? 

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


He has the ability to stir up some shit, that's what he has. To be a real fucking nuisance.

  
  


As the day ends and the evening hours tick by, he has half a mind to invite Eliott up to tear through his expensive liquor cabinet with him. But he doesn't know what's worse, the idea of him accepting or refusing. 

  
  


He finds himself on a hookup app trying to invite some available men in the immediate area to come over to his apartment and have an impromptu party. Talking to his dealer for an express delivery, as well, but he's halfway through setting it all up when he realizes that even the idea of going through with the whole thing bores him immensely.

  
  


Staying here isn't going to help anything, and mindless sex and drugs are never going to be enough. Not anymore. He wants to crawl out of his skin ; he wants to create problems on purpose. There is all this life energy inside him that doesn't know where to go ; stirred up by anger and his flight _and_ fight instincts going into frenzy mode. If he doesn’t express it somehow, he’s going to combust from the inside out.

And that's when an idea takes root in his mind.

  
  


As the clock edges toward midnight, he throws back a small, single shot of whiskey, just enough to warm him up, and goes to change. He puts on the sluttiest outfit he can think of - low-slung leather pants, see through mesh top, halter leather harness, a quick smudge of eyeliner under his eyes. And he shapes his hair up until it seems like an affront to gravity. Just waiting to be messed up. 

  
  
  


Yeah. That will do. 

  
  
  


He grabs some...supplies, his car keys, throws on a coat he leaves open, and then goes to knock on Eliott's door.

  
  


The sight that greets him when he opens the door is a double treat - Eliott's just wearing sweatpants and an extremely threadbare tank top that leaves very little of his sculpted torso to the imagination ; and when he takes in Lucas's outfit, his jaw drops and his expression freezes over.

  
  


"I'm going out for a little bit of fun. Wanna come ? We can take tomorrow off again." 

  
  
  


Eliott swallows.

  
  


"Uh, sure. You...want to go out dancing?"

  
  


Oh, that and about a thousand other things.

  
  


"Hell yeah. But first...we're going landscaping." 

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  
  


The car he gets out of his private garage, he hasn't driven in ages - it's flashy and vulgar, just like his mood right now, and incredibly fast, a remainder of the days when he was fantasizing about getting into street racing, and actually did for a few scrapes before figuring it wasn’t worth risking his life for.

  
  
  


Flirting with danger, though. It’s always held an appeal. 

  
  
  


Eliott gets into the passenger seat without much of a word, but Lucas tracks the expressions on his face hungrily. He's slipped into some actual clothes very similar to those he wore when they first met, black jeans and tight black shirt, and it’s giving Lucas all sorts of emotions. His eyes are almost dark blue in the low light, and his jaw seems to be sculpted in marble, pale skin almost bloodless, features both strong and delicate. It’s almost enough to make him completely forget he’s driving.

  
  


Lucas slaps himself mentally and engages the car through the streets, traffic fluid and almost nonexistent at this time of night. Anticipation builds up as they get closer and closer to their first destination.

  
  


They're a few streets away when he sees Eliott clue in.

  
  


"Wait, where are we...I thought we were going…"

  
  


"We're going clubbing after that. But I have something to drop off first. Let's call it a token of appreciation for our noble leader."

  
  
  


He parks the car across the street, and turns the motor off.

  
  
  


They both stare at Zeus's mansion, and Lucas feels the rage, shame and humiliation of this morning bubble up again, ready to be used as fuel. The way Zeus likes to make people feel small, and every time they’ve seen each other, he’s always felt so keen on making Lucas the target of it. He never retaliated because he didn’t want to waste time with petty godly dick measuring contests. He felt like showing he was above it all was his best line of defense. 

  
  
  


But Zeus’s never threatened his freedom before, and that’s… a step too far. He can take being electrocuted but that threat of getting locked up makes him sick to his stomach.

  
  


He knows that this is courting trouble, he does. But the idea of doing nothing is unbearable. He needs to show Zeus he's not some bitch he can just boss around. If he goes against Lucas, he won't come out unscathed. And he knows that Zeus really values all his earthly posessions, his family heritage, his lordly aura of being untouchable.

  
  
  


He lowers his window. He's deliberately parked next to a patch of pretty ornamental flowers. 

  
  
  


He takes a small leather pouch from his pocket and sticks his arm out of the window to upend it over the flower patch.

  
  


Then he focuses. He can feel the seeds he dropped, recognizes their energy - he designed those himself, after all, when he was still very into plant breeding.

  
  


It's a good thing that his powers have seemingly come roaring back to week over the last week or so. Right in time for this.

He seeks them out, and gently coaxes them into sprouting into the well-fertilized earth, to develop roots. Out of each seed life rushes forth, and soon they are digging themselves through the soil, hungry for space. He directs their growth, shaping them as he sends them energy, under the concrete of the road, and towards Zeus' mansion. And his powers come rushing forth like he doesn't remember them doing in a long, long time.

  
  


"Holy shit. What the…" Eliott swears.

  
  
  


Lucas blinks, opening his eyes and looking at what was previously a carefully manicured lawn with dainty plant beds and topiaries shaped to the millimeter, and is now a mess of earth turned over and gnarly roots breaking out.

  
  


He exhales, and it takes him a monumental effort to hold back the tide of growing energy he has been rushing towards the plants. He turns his gaze towards Eliott.

  
  
  


"Do you think I should stop ? Am I being an asshole again ?" His voice comes out breathless with exertion.

  
  


Eliott turns towards him. His eyes are huge in the faint glow of the streetlights, glimmering with surprise and...excitement ? 

  
  


"Fuck no." He answers, voice low and throaty. "Wreck his shit." It reminds him of the way Eliott almost threw himself into Zeus’s lightning to help Lucas, even though it surely would have killed him.

  
  


Lucas feels a thrill run through his veins, and he grins. 

  
  


"Alright." 

  
  


He lets loose - all the fear, anger, humiliation, doubt, worry, frustration, all those excess feelings he's been harboring as of late - pushing it into the plants - and they grow and grow and grow, responding like never before, and he can both see and feel them, thorny tendrils creeping up the walls, overrunning the trees, breaking through windows, getting in and trailing slime over priceless carpets and paintings.

"I made those myself," Lucas pants through the effort, "not only do they trail black slime everywhere, they also have flowers that smell like rotten meat. And they're worse than bindweed. Once you have them in your garden...they're impossible to get rid of. They just keep coming back. Especially when boosted with magic energy."

Eliott laughs, high and giddy. "Fuck, that's amazing."

Damn right, Lucas thinks as he weaves the plants through every single part of the house, ripping crystal chandeliers from the ceiling, delighting in the pure chaos. Eliott looks at him with admiration in his eyes, and Lucas feels wild, and so alive.

"Who's your favorite god now, huh ?" He can't help but ask, grinning with all his teeth bare. 

Eliott bites his lip, and Lucas can feel _his_ energy too now, all coiled up and cramped, incredible, so much strength to be unleashed, just waiting for Lucas's touch to blossom, and fuck, it's drawing him in like nothing else, fueling his own, and he feels the plants everywhere around them start to burst into flowers, a lush exuberance of life gone wild. Eliott looks at him like he knows the answer, and as he opens his mouth he is looking at Lucas's lips - 

  
  


A shrill cry breaks through, and lights turn on in the mansion. 

  
  
  


Fuck. They need to leave. 

  
  


Lucas floors it, the stench of the flowers from the demon vine wafting through briefly, leaving the ruins of the Zeus manor behind them. 

  
  


…

  
  


He takes the highway, life energy pulsing through his veins as the car's speed roars under him. He feels ...unhinged. Almost high on the power, the feeling of taking his freedom back. This was good, but he needs more. He's nowhere near done. And he can't get enough of the look on Eliott's face, hungry, dangerous. 

  
  


The club whose parking lot he pulls into a moment later is one he doesn’t come often, unless he really wants to let loose. It’s not magically themed, and its sheer size allows him to be relatively anonymous, usually, as well as its situation on the outskirts of the city. It’s enormous, sprawling across several converted warehouses, each several floors high and linked by rickety bridges, a safety hazard only allowed to continue because its owner has some massive clout.

He wonders if he’s going to be stopped at the entrance, this time, but he makes it through, Eliott following closely, a bit more close than is proper. 

  
  


He drops his coat and then makes straight for the dancefloor. The club is packed, dark, filled with smoke and scattered neon lights. 

The feeling of life booming around him feeds his high, and he can feel the earth below, ready to open at his command. He’s aware of Eliott trailing behind him the whole time, a streak of density among the volatile energies of the party goers. 

Once he's found a spot he lets the music wash over and through him, swaying his hips, lifting his arms up. Bodies brushing against his own, the collective euphoria soaking through his skin. Trying to let go, to lose himself, all his worries, the rhythm rocking through his body - but the acid whirlpool in his brain is still there, pulsing in tune, anxiety ratcheting up again like the ascendant phase of a rollercoaster.

He feels a body behind his getting closer, and then there are hands gripping his hips roughly, and hope surges through his heart, but the man behind him is too beefy to be the one he'd hoped for. 

He casts his eyes through the crowd and finds _him_ , a few meters away. Easily, because his eyes are screwed on Lucas's face like a vise, strobing lights turning his eyes into changeable jewels.

God, Lucas is so tired of waiting. He doesn't know why he is so attracted to Eliott, why he can't get him out of his head, especially now that his life is spiralling out of control, but he doesn't care anymore. He just wants him close, he wants to be held, pinned down, taken out of the awful echo chamber of his brain...

He grinds back against the man holding him, throwing his head back provocatively, exposing his neck. Usually he wouldn't care for a stranger getting so familiar that fast, thinking he can lead Lucas, but right now, it's all a means to an end. So he lets himself be manhandled, runs his hands over his own chest, and stares Eliott down, daring him to do something about it.

  
  
  


_All of this could be yours, if you'd just take it._

  
  
  


For a minute or so Eliott just stares at him, jaw clenched. He knows exactly what Lucas is doing and Lucas can see the conflict raging in his eyes.

  
  


Then he pushes through the crowd, people hastily getting out of his way, and in a flash his hands are around Lucas's waist, pulling him in possessively, free from the other man, and a rush of warmth washes over Lucas. 

  
  
  


"Hey ! What the fuck !" 

  
  
  


"He's mine. Fuck off." Eliott says in a tone that implies he could kill people with that voice if he went a few octaves deeper, and goes straight to Lucas's gut, sending sparks along his spine. It's a voice eerily similar to the one he uses to compel spirits.

  
  


Fuck. Yes. _Yes, I'm yours._

  
  


Lucas plasters himself against Eliott to confirm this information, to make it clear to the other man he'd better leave now that he has fulfilled his purpose. Arms around his neck, as Eliott's wrap themselves around Lucas's waist. Like this, he can take in the full measure of their height difference, Eliott a full head taller than him, and it makes him dizzy.

Apparently, the other guy gets it and lets it go, because Eliott turns all his attention towards Lucas again, lifting his chin up, fingers soft and careful as if Lucas was made of porcelain.

  
  


"Are you okay ?"

  
  


Lucas wants to snort - Eliott treating him like some sort of damsel in distress is almost funny considering how Lucas was very much acting like a shameless hussy a few minutes prior. But he likes this game too much, so he just nods and widens his eyes.

Eliott pushes their foreheads together, and they share a breath, pressed against each other and almost immobile in the middle of the dancefloor. Lucas feels incandescent, in this instant, and he can sense life stirring in the earth deep below the concrete, responding to his call, and this time it's entirely involuntary. Just as the flowers he woke up surrounded by after their first night together - there is something about Eliott that both amplifies his powers and loosens his grip on them, and it's both thrilling and terrifying. 

Eliott's hands are on the small of his back, stroking up and down gingerly, carefully, and it makes him woozy inside - but he also wishes Eliott wouldn't treat him like he was breakable, bring back that spark of possessiveness that just flared up. 

To make his intentions clearer, he grabs the nape of Eliott's neck with one hand, pulling him closer, and brings his lips to the skin of his neck.

First a breath, and he feels Eliott shiver ; and then just the ghost of a kiss, and he gets a whimper. The hands on his back go lower, tighter.

It reminds him of how responsive Eliott was in bed, how giving and eager to follow his cues, and fuck, he wishes he'd paid more attention instead of treating it like a random hook up. 

  
  


"Did anyone touch you since I did ?" He whispers in Eliott's ear. 

  
  
  


"N-no." Eliott stutters.

  
  
  


Lucas feels a boom of possessive satisfaction deep in his belly.

  
  


"Good. Let's keep it that way." He knows it's preposterous to lay any claim, especially since he didn't restrict himself, but right now, in the heat of the moment, it feels right.

  
  


He traces his fingers in fine circles, mouthing at his skin, and Eliott leans into him, pulling him even closer, almost curling over him. Every point of contact between them feels electric, a livewire of intent and repressed need. 

  
  


He sucks Eliott's skin between his teeth, making him moan, so sweetly and way too loud, the sound inappropriately nestled in a moment of silence before the base drops. He wants to leave a mark. 

Eliott grabs his hips and pulls him in against him, guiding his movements, moving them together in rhythm, back and forth, and the space between them shrinks to nothing, and then they're touching, and Lucas can feel the hardening outline of Eliott's cock pressing against his own, and it makes him go haywire.

He grinds against him, and the friction is so good, and he is very close to just jumping on Eliott, wrapping his legs around him and kissing the hell out of him - 

\- when he thinks that Eliott is one step ahead as he grabs his chin, and is about to smash their lips together - 

  
  


but then he stops in mid motion -

  
  
  
  
  


"Fuck, Lucas, we can't do this."

  
  
  


And then he lets go.

  
  


Eliott's words come crashing through Lucas's bubble of euphoria, the sting of rejection bringing everything to an end, plummeting to the ground, and waking him up to the awfulness of his reality. 

  
  


_Of course not._ The meanest voice in his brain says, sounding a lot like Zeus. _Who could really want you ? As more than a drunken bad idea, a brief bout of rebellion ? Who could know you and still want you ? You're a disgrace._

  
  


Eliott stumbles back and he looks lost, like a man just woken up from a dream.

  
  
  


_Why ?_ Lucas wants to ask. _Why did you say I was yours when it's not true? How can you do this to me ?_

  
  


He wants to scream.

  
  


Instead, he turns around, and disappears into the crowd. 

  
  


He tries to push down the arousal as he makes his way, and then he knows where he needs to be. There is a corner of this club, on the third floor, where this guy always is selling, quality stuff. That's what he needs now ; nothing else can replace the high he's just been cut off from. 

  
  


He doesn't look back. If Eliott is trying to follow, he doesn't want to see.

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  


He gets the good stuff, and washes it down with a few cocktails, violent bursts of sugary alcohol on his tongue, and it's better, but it's still not enough. The feeling is still there - the feeling that he is running out of time, that the water is rising around him and he has shackled feet and it's soon reaching his lips, that his fears are closing in on him - that it's not long before someone takes everything he owns and locks him up in a remote temple somewhere, and wait for him to go all sweet and pliant against his will, bowled over by Hades' fucking influence. The stunt he just pulled with Zeus' mansion tonight isn't going to help. But if this is what's coming, if he can't escape it, Lucas won't wait quietly. He'll go out in the most scandalous, inappropriate way possible. He knows this is self destruction, but he's completely past caring.

  
  


He knows he is losing control, too. He can see cracks in the walls, through which thorny vines are starting to slither in.

  
  


Eventually, Eliott catches up to him. By then, he is significantly past trying to be nice. It's his true self showing, spiteful and mean and selfish. 

  
  


This time, he doesn't let go of his new friend, and when Eliott makes a move to come closer he whispers in the man's ear, "Let's go to the bathroom."

  
  
  


…

  
  


When he finally emerges out of the men's bathroom, Eliott is waiting for him outside, face grim.

  
  


He looks so sorry and angsty and gods Lucas is tired of people feeling sorry for him. He can't fucking stand it. Besides, he's fine now. His lips are busted and his throat is sore but apart from that, he feels like he's floating. Or something.

  
  


Taking drugs is always a bit of a hit or miss, because his organism processes them much faster usually - so he has to take a lot more than a regular human and sometimes he overshoots. But it seems to be pretty cool so far. The light is making fractal circles when he is looking at it for too long, and he is starting to hear the colors.

  
  


"Why so glum ?" He sidles up to Eliott and slams against the wall to his side, and shows him a fifty bill. "Look at this, the third man I blew in there thought I was a whore and gave me this." He laughs. "I can restart my empire with this, if they try to take it away."

  
  
  


Eliott's face decomposes even further.

  
  
  


"Oh don't look at me like that. You should have fucked me yourself when you had the chance."

  
  
  


"Lucas...are you on drugs ?"

  
  
  


He laughs, high and airy. It sounds strangely displaced to his own ears.

  
  


"Yeah, are you shocked ? I can get you some if you want. I mean, I need to have some fun before I get locked up in a tower somewhere so I can become some petty godly tyrant's bitch. I bet he has greasy hair like the previous Hades too. Yikes."

Eliott's face isn't angry like he wanted him to be. He's...gods, is that pity ? _Fuck him_.

  
  


Lucas turns away again and flees down the main stairs, to the biggest bar downstairs.

  
  


His work is starting to pay off ; demon vines are slipping through the cracks, their purplish flowers starting to spread their rotten odor. People are catching on, faces distorted in disgust, and they are streaming towards the exits in droves.

  
  
  


Good. He needs some space to finish this.

  
  


The bartender is gone, so he grabs a bottle of coconut Malibu and drinks full gulps from it. Then he climbs onto the counter, a good vantage point from which to observe the chaos. 

  
  


The plants have taken all three warehouses, structural integrity compromised. He hears a massive crack and rumble and it's music to his ears. 

He laughs, and it sounds strangely distorted.

  
  
  
  


As the room finally empties itself of the last stragglers, Eliott rushes in, his face heavy with fear. Gosh, he really needs to learn how to relax.

Lucas lays down on the bar, turning back towards him with what he hopes is a sultry, seductive pose, hand on his cocked hip

.

  
  


“Well hello there. Fancy a drink ?” He raises the Malibu bottle and pours some into his open mouth, missing a little and staining his collar, but who cares.

  
  


“Lucas, what the fuck are you doing ?”

  
  


He laughs.

  
  


“Funny story, actually. Not a lot of people know this but the main investor of this place is one Charles Munier. Rings a bell ?”

Eliott sighs.

  
  


“That’s the civil name of Zeus, right ?”

  
  


“Bingo ! I am going to ruin that piece of shit for the way he talked to me.”

  
  


There is another loud sound of concrete, wood and metal tearing apart, and the walls start shaking.

  
  


“Lucas ! This place is full of people ! It’s too dangerous !”

  
  


“Oh chill, don’t worry, I have this completely under control. I am tracking every single life form in this building and I’ll only let it fall apart when everyone is out. Everyone is already out, actually. There are so many cockroaches in the vents, too. Best to close this place down any- ”

  
  


Just as he finishes talking, an enormous cinder block falls off the ceiling and crashes into the bar behind him, shattering glass and causing the alcohol bottles to cascade down in an epic mess.

  
  


“Totally under control,” he repeats, less sure of himself.

  
  


“Lucas, we need to get out of here !”

  
  


“No.” He says stubbornly, his head swaying as he gets up. “I’m a god, baby ! Nothing can hurt me ! And-and I’m not afraid of anything. I’m your boss, so do as I tell you and get out of here yourself. I’m...tired of looking at you anyway.”

Eliott stares him down and Lucas can’t tell if he is angry or something else, and then he moves forward and pushes himself up and onto the bar, crouching next to Lucas, and he pulls him close again, and cups Lucas’s face so tenderly it makes his head spin, caressing the edge of his jaw with both thumbs.

“I promise, I’ll take care of you, alright ?” He says in a soft, deep voice, tone suggestive, his jewel eyes planted firmly into Lucas’s, just lowering briefly to his lips, and his expression is so intense Lucas almost melts on the spot. 

Fuck ! Fuck, why is he so weak and needy. It doesn't matter how pissed he is. He can't resist those eyes. All of a sudden, he feels a wave of incredible tiredness come over him, and he feels incredibly small, and it drains the fight away.

“Alright,” he says in a tiny voice. Eliott helps him off the counter and towards the exit, as walking in a straight line becomes very difficult, and the building is shaking by the time they make it out.

  
  
  
  


...

As they go to the car, Lucas’s lust-addled brain comes up with all sort of images - Eliott pulling him into the backseat, spreading his legs, or maybe taking him from behind against the dashboard - but then Eliott opens the door and pushes him down into the passenger seat instead, and goes to sit behind the wheel. Alright, odd choice, but they can still make this work - he crawls over and sits himself in Eliott’s lap, and is about to dive in for a kiss when Eliott stops him by putting his hand in between them, and Lucas’s lips land on Eliott’s palm.

  
  


Then Eliott _lifts_ him up, and sits him back into the side seat. Lucas is extremely confused but can’t help but swoon at the strength that just took. 

  
  


“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Eliott starts the motor.

  
  


“But you said…” Lucas starts. His head is spinning and he can’t get his mind together. He realizes what happened as they pull out of the parking lot. “You tricked me ! You…just …said that to make me come with you, you fucking…”

In the distance, there is a great rumble, and then the main warehouse of the club falls apart onto itself, followed by the other ones.

“Lucas, you’re drunk, high and you’re clearly vulnerable. I’m not going to take advantage of that. I said I was going to take care of you, and that’s what I’m going to do. First step was getting you out of that crumbling building .”

  
  


Vulnerable ? Who the fuck is vulnerable here ?

  
  


“Screw you, and your high horse.” He says, feeling bile bubble up. “I’m firing you. You don’t even listen to me, and you’re fucking pathetic. Why do you even care so much ? Like, your life must really suck for you to invest in me like that, you loser. I’m just paying you to be my friend. Do you think I really care ? No, I don’t. I don’t care about anything. I can’t. I just…fuck. Stop the car.”

  
  


“No.” Eliott says. His jaw is tightly clenched. He’s angry. Good. Whatever this is between them, it’s a liability. 

  
  


“I said I’m firing you ! Stop the fucking car.”

  
  


“What, and leave you there on a random street to get robbed ? No.”

  
  


“Eliott, I fucking swear…”

  
  


“What are you going to do, fire me twice ?”

  
  


Lucas tries to open the door, then, but it doesn’t open, and it’s possible that Eliott has turned on the safety system, and Lucas tries to reach over but Eliott pushes him back. He feels a rush of anger, but he’s too drained and even moving is difficult, so he lays back into his seat.

  
  


And this time, he can’t avoid the wave of emotions that comes over him.

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


By the time they arrive to the apartment, he is well on his way to a bad trip, nauseous, migraine thumping against his temples, cold sweats running down his back, and he is clinging to Eliott’s arm like a lifeline. He feels so fucking stupid for everything that just happened it's like he's inhaling solid shame through his nostrils, and it's disgusting.

  
  
  


They get into the penthouse.

  
  
  


The air is freezing.

  
  
  


“Fuck, not now.” Eliott swears. Lucas sees the plume of steamy breath rise out of his mouth, and he shivers. No no no no. He can’t see ghosts like this, he can’t….

  
  


But it’s too late.

They’re already there. Inside his apartment, waiting for him in the dark, patiently.

Well, just one, a slight frame, standing in the dark of his salon, silhouette visible against the backdrop of open windows, dark grey sky.

  
  


Eliott turns the lights on.

  
  


Lucas stares into the face of his dead mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i AM sorry for that cliffhanger...have fun waiting until Monday ^^ As you can surmise, with next chapter we will reach the first really intense emotional drama peak, so...hang on to your hats.
> 
> It was very satisfying to write him wreck Charles' shit, honestly, I won't lie ^^ But...there will be consequences. dun dun dun ...
> 
> as always comments are very appreciated and feel free to yell at me if you can't be articulate lmao <3


	9. Chapter 8 - Eliott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas and Eliott deal with an unexpected visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok guys, we are getting into the meat of this story and this chapter is ...intense, angsty, and the first part of it is meant to be scary as fuck (not all of the chapter though). hope you will still like it though <3
> 
> as always thank you all for the feedback and comments, they're very lovely. 
> 
> cw : drowning, mentions of death, zombie related body horror

  
  
  


Chapter 8 - Eliott

  
  
  


Eliott shakes his head, trying to cast off the fatigue and the emotions running strong through his veins. This is some epically bad timing. For a moment, he really hates the way this job gives him no respite at all. 

The ghost they are now facing is corporeal, too, but at least it’s just one. A woman, or at least her decaying remains, small, slight, blonde, in her late forties. There is something oddly familiar about her features, and compared to the other revenants they’ve been faced with, she is relatively well conserved, her face simply extremely pale, her lips blue, and her eyes dead. She is slightly puffy, too, as if waterlogged, and her hair is wet, dripping over her shoulders onto the carpet. 

He feels a wave of exhaustion wash over him. After the rollercoaster of the evening, all he wants to do is crawl in bed and figure out if what happened this evening is grounds for actually quitting and putting all this bullshit behind him without ever looking back, or swearing his undying devotion to Lucas for the rest of his life, because he’s wildly swinging between the two. Whatever he chooses, he is pretty sure it’s going to involve a stern, very cathartic conversation with Lucas he will practice in the shower beforehand, about how being an asshole just to keep people away is going to get real boring real soon, and Eliott isn’t a punching bag, and how Lucas needs to stop being so careless with himself, too, because gods when he wants to he is so goddamn brave and Eliott knows, he just knows that there is an excellent person hidden under there that deserves love and affection if only he let people give it to him and he…

Yeah, he has some shit to figure out. He feels drained, and exasperated, and afraid, and still echoing with the memory of how turned on and thrilled he was earlier, and worried out of his mind because of the methodical spiral of self destruction his annoying boss - also new best friend/charge to protect from the ravenous undead/crush/secret godly consort - seems to now be engaged in.

  
  


So the last thing he’s in his mind to do now is deal with a fucking zombie. But he doesn’t have a choice. Lucas is extra vulnerable, now, too, and this must be one hell of a bad trip to be faced with when you’re still high as a kite and on the hornier side of too angry-sad to cope with life. 

He digs into his pockets for his materials and prepares himself to do a standard exorcism. 

  
  
  


But that's when Lucas’s reaction chills him to the bone. 

  
  


“No,” he croaks, voice horrified. “Not you.” 

  
  
  


Oh shit. If it’s someone he knows…

  
  


“Lucas,” the dead woman whispers, her voice just a thin reedy gust of wind. The temperature in the room drops several degrees lower. “I waited for you, Lucas. Where were you ?” 

“No...this can’t...you can’t...No..” Lucas stammers. The energy that Eliott has felt coming from him all evening - wild, fluctuating, sharp, chaotic, overwhelming - brutally contracts until there is nothing left but shrinking fear. 

  
  
  


“My son…” the dead woman whispers, and Eliott feels his heart break. 

  
  
  
  


“Please get her away from me,” Lucas begs, clinging to Eliott’s arm in a death grip. 

  
  
  
  


Eliott takes a deep breath. Right. No matter what, he needs to do his job. He needs to protect Lucas from this. The restless dead don't provide comfort, and they rarely provide truth. When they haunt their loved ones, it always turns ugly. 

  
  
  
  


He takes his bundle of herbs and tries to light it on fire, to provide the helping protective smoke. 

  
  
  


  
But there’s something wrong. 

  
  
  


Very quickly he realises he can’t get his lighter to produce flame for some reason - it worked perfectly earlier this evening as he tested it before putting it in his pocket. Now, it won’t even produce sparks. He tries and tries and tries, almost pulling off his nail on the little metal wheel. 

  
  
  


Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Then he feels something ice cold seep into his shoes. 

  
  


He looks down, and there is  _ water  _ on the floor, glacial and abnormally dark, and this, this is definitely not normal. 

  
  
  


Lucas lets out a soft cry. 

  
  
  


Shit shit shit shit. He’s heard about this before, from the old man who taught him the rudimentary skills of exorcism before being killed by a vengeful ghost of his own. Some hauntings have more power because the ghosts have an unresolved emotional link to the person they’re haunting, helping them manipulate the environment and gain strength. 

They’re generally not corporeal, though. So this is the same, but as a curse, multiplied by a hundred... fuck they're in trouble.

  
  
  


He takes another deep breath. Panicking is useless right now. Lucas is in a compromised state. It’s up to him to deal with this. This is what he has been training for.

  
  


He racks through his memory frantically. These ghosts, his old master told him, are vulnerable to...fire, yes. And things that burn, like pepper and chilies. So if his lighter won't work…

  
  


"Hey Lucas," he whispers, "you have hot sauce in your kitchen, right ?"

  
  


No answer. 

  
  
  


"Lucas!"

  
  


He looks down at Lucas, still clinging at his arm, and shakes it a little, but gets no response. It's as if the man is catatonic. 

  
  


Fuck. 

All right, then they'll just have to...he wraps his arm around Lucas and drags them both backwards, to the kitchen, while keeping the ghosts in their sights. She doesn't move, but makes a plaintive, guttural sound as they disappear through the door into the main living room and kitchen that sends chills along Eliott's spine. 

  
  


He almost has to pull Lucas and hold him upwards, and the water level is raising and raising itself until it's almost up to their knees, so it takes him forever to reach the pantry.

  
  


Once there, he lets go of Lucas for a brief instant, and opens the upper cabinet to reach the spice rack, and gets everything he finds - sriracha sauce, chili powder, black pepper, pink pepper, Szechuan pepper, white pepper, green pepper, even a pot of jalapenos. It's lucky that Lucas likes his food so spicy...He takes his shirt off and creates a bundle from it to put everything in, and then he turns around - 

  
  
  
  


Fuck. Fuck ! 

  
  
  


Lucas is gone. 

  
  
  


He hears a muffled sob from the salon, and rushes towards it, but suddenly it's as if the water is purposely working against him now, like there is a current, and now up to his thighs - and he pushes and pushes but it seems so far away and the water is so cold he almost can't feel his toes anymore.

  
  


He finally reaches the doorway of the salon and what he sees there freezes him in terror. 

  
  


Lucas is standing in front of the ghost, and the ghost has extended one of her hands towards him, and she is about to touch his face when the light flickers and dies, plunging them in darkness again. 

"Mom," Lucas whispers, voice brought low by sadness.

  
  


"I waited for you." The ghost answers, voice thin and distorted as if talking through water. "I waited for so long, but you never came." 

  
  


"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I was going to…" Lucas pleads.

  
  


"I wrote you letters," the ghost continues. "I told you they were being mean to me. Why didn't you believe me ?" 

"I...I...the lady said you were seeing things again, I…I' m sorry…"

  
  


Eliott tries to get closer to them, to wrench Lucas away, but it's as if his feet are stuck, as if something is holding him back.

  
  


He grabs a pepper jar, opens it and flings it in the direction of the ghost, and he hears it hit its target as the ghost hisses, eyes flashing at him unnaturally, and he can see that she has her hand around Lucas's throat now. 

Something reaches out of the water, and yanks his bundle out of his hands and down, taking Eliott by surprise. He bows down to take it back and then feels something in the water, a hand, grabbing his wrist, and yelps in disgust as he pulls back out and plasters himself against the wall. 

  
  


_ What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck _

"I dreamed of the flood the day before it came. I told the villagers but they didn't believe me and they locked me up. And when it came they left me behind, and I couldn't do anything," the ghost continues, voice a mournful whisper. 

  
  


Horror insinuates itself into Eliott's veins at what her words imply. He can't imagine what it must be like for Lucas.

"I'm so sorry, mom," Lucas sobs.

"I watched the water come in under the door and through the bars of the window. I yelled for help but everyone was gone."

Eliott tries to wrench himself free, but the water is up to his waist now, and he can feel hands all over his legs, gripping at him, cold and clammy, and he feels a wave of revulsion go through him.

"Lucas ! Don't listen to her !" 

  
  


All he can see is the back of Lucas's head, and it doesn't budge. He can feel how the ghost is feeding off of Lucas's guilt and grief and shame, and how her grip on his mind is becoming stronger and stronger.

"That's when I knew I was going to die, so I laid down on the bed and pretended to be asleep."

"I'm sorry," Lucas cries, voice shredded into whispers by pain. "I'm so, so sorry."

'I thought about what a happy life you would lead, my son, so full of love and joy."

  
  
  


He hears an inhuman noise tear free from Lucas's mouth.

  
  


"The water felt so cold, and when it swallowed me all I could think about was how alone I was." The ghost says, teary, voice shaking with emotion. "But if you come with me now, I won't be alone anymore."

"Mom, please…"

  
  


"You will come with me, will you, Lucas ?" 

  
  


"Yes," Lucas whispers, defeated. 

  
  


"NO !" Eliott roars. "Don't listen to her, she's not your mom, she's a ghost, it's not real !" 

But it's too late. He can see the ghost reach her arms forward and put both of her hands on Lucas's shoulders, and he goes, falling to his knees, until his head is only slightly above water. 

Then she puts her hand on his head, and pushes down.

Eliott feels a bolt of pure fear go through him as he sees Lucas's head disappear under water, and he jumps forward, only to be held back by dozens and dozens of dead, blackened hands, holding him in place….

  
  


He starts an incantation to the chthonic world, for it to open, but it's too little too late, and nothing happens and fuck, this can't be it, it can't, not at all…

  
  


The rage and despair create a hole in his heart, and suddenly he knows what he has to do, the only option he has left.

He calls on the part of himself that he always keeps hidden, the one that has mastery over the dead.

  
  


Hades.

  
  


He calls on that power, cool and calm and dark and unfathomably vast, and he lets it take over. He feels a rush of energy seize over his body, and wrench him free, and then a booming voice echoes out of his mouth, speaking incantations he doesn't know, and there is a loud cracking sound.

A whirlpool appears in the middle of the room, shaking up the still dark water troubled by strange masses and forms, and Eliott jumps forward, grasping on to Lucas's form and hauling him out of the water and away from the ghost.

Plumes of dark smoke rise out of the water, surrounding her, her eyes unnaturally wide, expression terrified. "Please," she pleads; but it's a distraction - Eliott can feel it but she pulls on the threads of energy that bind her to Lucas, threatening to rob him of whatever life force he has left. He feels so lifeless and weightless against Eliott's shoulder. 

Hades reaches out with Eliott's hand, and puts it on the ghost's forehead.

"Be at peace." He says, in that same deep, echoing voice, and Lucas's mother crumples to the ground. 

The whirlpool takes her body into the chasm back to the Underworld, effortlessly, as if it was just a blade of grass caught in a hurricane.

  
  


In a matter of minutes, all the water is gone, and the chasm closes. 

And then everything is back to normal.

  
  


Lucas splutters back to consciousness in his arms, coughing out black water, and Eliott, in a panic, rushes to push Hades back down under the cover of his mother's shield.

  
  


_ You won't be able to hide me forever, little one. _ The booming voice echoes, this time inside his skull.  _ I am a part of you now. _

  
  


But then it relents, thankfully. Eliott sinks to his knees, cradling Lucas in his arms, and lets out a sob of relief as he opens his eyes, shining in the darkness with tears.

  
  


…

  
  


He's never seen Lucas like this before. The confidence and fearlessness are completely gone. He is cold and pale as death and clinging on to Eliott for dear life, teeth chattering, and he looks so small all of a sudden. Fear, shock and protectiveness are thumping through Eliott's heart in equal measure. Sorrow, too. He knows what it's like to be paralyzed by grief so heavy it feels as if it's reaching out of the grave to drag you in. He wishes he were stronger, so he could have banished the ghost before Lucas even saw her face. This is why the dead should stay dead. 

And whoever the fuck send this curse, so awfully personal...what a fucking ugly soul they must have. Right then and there, he swears to himself he's going to find them and make them pay. 

He hauls Lucas up in a bridal carry and goes to the bathroom, thinking he needs to do something to bring Lucas's temperature up again, and wash the black stains on his clothes off. Ghost residue is often toxic as hell, and the warmth should help him come back to himself.

But when he sets Lucas down in the large bathtub, fully clothed, Lucas clings to him with terror in this voice. "Please...not the water…"

Eliott's heart crimps in, but steps into the bathtub behind Lucas, and holds him in his arms. "We need to get you warm, get this shit off you, but it's going to be fine. You're safe. I promise. It's going to be alright, ok ?" 

He grabs the first bath product he can find and empties it under the running faucet, already hot, creating bubbles and unleashing the powerful smell of orange blossom in the room. "See ? Ghosts don't have bubbles." He tries to keep his voice light, but it's a horrible caricature of their usual banter, worry cracking through his voice.

Lucas nods mutely, but keeps shivering all the way through. Eliott plasters his back against his, rubbing circles into his arms, his thighs, whispering  _ you're okay, you're safe,  _ over and over again. He wonders how much drugs there still are in his system, what else he should do, but touch and a soothing voice is the best he can do right now. He keeps the drain unplugged and the three faucets on, and strokes and kneads both their clothes and skin with his hands, until the foul stains wash away, and little by little the water clears again. 

He can feel the clammy contraction of his own muscles start to relent, and thinks maybe Lucas is finally starting to relax against him, when then he starts crying instead.

"I can't do this anymore." He sobs in a broken voice. "I can't." Eliott doesn't know what he is talking about, but it fills his chest with sorrow, dark and muddy like the water they almost drowned in. It strikes him that - that tonight, Lucas was willing to let himself die, and he doesn't know whether it's the drugs or the ghost's influence or something deeper but god - how do you even start to deal with that ? 

And he keeps crying as Eliott gets them out of the tub. It gets worse when he moves away to find them dry clothes. 

"Please. Please don't leave me." He whimpers, and Eliott feels terrible as he leaves him regardless to ruffle through Lucas's closet. He still seems so out of it that Eliott has to help him strip free of his waterlogged clothes, and for a moment he is glad that they already saw each other naked, which reduces the awkwardness of the moment greatly.

Once they're both clothed in soft, dry sweater pants and shirts, Eliott swoops him up again and carries him to his bed. "Please, don't leave," he begs again.

"I won't, I promise. I'm staying with you. I just need to make some wards." 

Now that his connection with Hades has been opened, he can feel it. The restless dead all heading their way. He needs to set up protections. He gathers all the supplies he can find around the house and comes back to the room. First he creates a circle of salt around the bed, adding whatever remains of pepper didn't get carried away by the whirlpool. Then he takes out some markers and starts drawing protective sigils all around the bed, on the floor and on the walls, drawing some on the frame of the bed for good measure, chanting as he does. Finally he grabs Lucas's arm and draws the sigils on his skin, as well. He's going to need protective tattoos, Eliott muses. He had no idea Persephone could be this vulnerable, but if they are throwing the heavy shit at them now…

  
  


Lucas looks at him, still pale and shell shocked all the while. Eliott has to pull the blanket over him, and then lies down next to him, suddenly feeling awkward. 

  
  


Lucas curls back onto himself. A while later, Eliott hears silent sobs, that Lucas clearly is trying to keep down - out of shame ? For Eliott's sake ? Gods, he shouldn't have to pretend in a moment like this. 

  
  


The only thing he can think of is turning around and putting what he hopes is a comforting hand on his shoulder ; touch seemed to help earlier.

  
  


"Hey," he whispers, "we're safe now. You're safe. It's going to be alright." That feels like such a flimsy promise right now. 

  
  


"It's my fault she's dead," Lucas confesses after a while, voice thin and hollow, and it tears at Eliott's heart. "I left her there, with those people maltreating her, so I could build my fucking empire. She was...unwell, and after my father left us I thought, I can earn money with my powers and, and get her some treatment, but...the first year I thought...if I spend all my money on her care I will never get my company off the ground, I thought...I thought she can wait a little longer right? But then," he continues, voice ragged with grief, "then there was an  _ accident _ . That's what they told me. But they forgot her. They fucking forgot her and they left her there to die, because she was nobody to them, she was the village lunatic, she was a nuisance." 

His voice is so full of rage, and it explains so much. His hatred for countryside people, his harsh shell and the loneliness beneath it, his obsession with his work, his self destructive tendencies.

  
  


Fuck, this is so awful.

  
  
  


Eliott's heart breaks down a little more, and he has no clue what to say. There is something so awfully familiar about this, to him, but at the same time completely alien. He is so ill equipped for this ; he never really dealt with his own grief, he just pushed it down. He wishes he and Lucas were closer, right then, that he could know the right thing to say. But he has an intuition Lucas isn't really the type to let himself be comforted, at all.

  
  


"I'm so sorry."

  
  


"But I got my company off the ground in the end, right." He laughs, bitter and full of self loathing. "Isn't that what matters ? Because that's the type of piece of shit that I am."

"You didn't know," Eliott whispers. "You had no way of knowing what would happen."

"Yeah I did. I should have. She wrote to me, she said that...but I didn't believe her because it was inconvenient for me." A heavy pause. "You should have let her take me. It would have been better for everyone."

"No," Eliott says. A shiver goes through his body at Lucas's words. "No way in hell. She was saying that because somebody used her form to hurt you. Your real mother would have wanted you to be alive. To be happy. To do better."

There is a moment of silence.

"I don't even know how to do that," Lucas says in a very small voice.

"It's okay," Eliott whispers in his ear, "you still have time to learn. To make her proud. I'm sure she loved you. She wouldn't have wanted you to suffer like this." He doesn't know shit, honestly, but saying anything else would be too cruel. 

  
  


"I don't…" Lucas starts, but he stops halfway. 

  
  


Then, silence again, and after a while, Eliott thinks he's fallen asleep. But then he feels more than he sees, Lucas inching back instead, slowly and instinctively, until he is nestled against Eliott. 

_ Oh.  _

He doesn't know how to respond to that - but he can already feel himself melt at this unexpected show of trust in such a difficult moment, and the icy grip of fear and sadness on his heart relents, just a little. Lucas is warm, and pliant, and he isn't shivering anymore.

He wraps an arm around Lucas tentatively, bringing him in, folding himself around Lucas. And Lucas settles his hand over Eliott's. 

After what they've just been through, there is nothing better than simple human warmth. 

He wants to believe his own words. That they will be alright, despite these reopened past wounds that Eliott is starting to see match his own more than he ever thought possible. And when it happened to him he wished so bitterly someone had been there to hold him through his grief instead of having to swallow it and weather it alone. So that's what he is going to do for Lucas now, even if it is too little too late. What else can he do ? Gods have nothing to do with this. This is simple humanity, in all its broken raw truth.

And there, as strange as it sounds after the horror they have just been through, he knows, somehow, that them being close like this is good. Healing, warm, out of danger, and sheltering each other.

They drift off to sleep like this, the world a heavy bruise at the edge of Eliott's consciousness, but at least, in here, they're safe. For now.

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  


Eliott wakes up what feels like an eternity later. 

  
  
  


Considering what happened yesterday, he slept...a lot better than expected. Yesterday was the most intense exorcism he has ever done, but he feels little of the soreness and exhaustion that usually plague him for weeks after such a big job.

Instead he is...warm, and still tightly wrapped around Lucas, who is a furnace against his belly and chest. Sunlight is peeking through his eyelids, but he keeps his eyes screwed shut. He can smell orange blossom, fresh laundry, a touch of sweat, and underneath, a heavy smell of river water and decay. And he feels Lucas's heartbeat against his own, and the slow rhythm of his sleeping breath...and gods, there is something so strangely peaceful about it.

Moving is extremely unappealing, even if being so close to another human being, and through an entire night, too, is very disorienting. But in a good way. He can't remember the last time this happened to him. His mind is still haunted by last night but his body is humming with satisfaction, and well...spending a night cuddling with his Persephone probably has a lot to do with that. Having Lucas curled up in his arms like this, sheltering him at his most vulnerable and trusting, is bringing up all his most protective and caring instincts, and it's not a part of himself he's ever known what to do with. Somehow it feels like such an honor.

He doesn't know if he'll ever get to do this again, so he wants to enjoy every single minute of it.

Thankfully there is no...crotch area weirdness, because that would really not be the right moment for that. What happened last night...it's already complicated enough without adding any morning wood related awkwardness.  He still blushes thinking about that moment in the club yesterday, where he almost gave in to the attraction between them, that searing, overwhelming fire. But he's glad he stopped himself. If anything, the events of last evening made clear that Lucas has a lot of issues that he needs to address before anything can happen between them, everything else set aside.

But yeah, Eliott can't deny it anymore. He really can't when he is laying like this and feels his heart mushy with joy in spite of their circumstances. He cares about Lucas so damn much, he  _ likes _ him, and it's not just sexual attraction or their divine connection. He likes the man he is discovering below the prickly surface, someone fiercely caring when he lets himself, funny, intense, clever...and to be honest, there are bits of the surface he likes too, the charisma, the boldness, the determination to live his life as he wants no matter what fate says. 

And Lucas's wilder side he discovered yesterday, that grin when he was fucking up Zeus' mansion,  _ gods _ ...He's such a force of nature. Even trashy, provocative Lucas, last evening in the club, he felt drawn to like a magnet... But this new Lucas, too, vulnerable and clearly deeply hurt by his past, he feels he had so much in common with, and he feels so protective towards. It's just...gods, it's overwhelming. And yesterday, when he thought Lucas's life was in danger, for a moment, he didn't give a shit about the risk of being discovered if he called on Hades. All that mattered was keeping Lucas safe.

Yeah. He's in trouble, and it's too late to go back. He's not going to leave. 

Or at least, he doesn't want to. But Lucas has issues, and Eliott refuses to be his punching bag, or to stand by as he destroys himself. If Lucas is scared by his own vulnerability into becoming an asshole again, this time, Eliott is not going to let himself bear the brunt of it. He needs Lucas to know that, and as they get closer, he needs to set boundaries. 

He wants...he wants this man he is now cradling in his arms to be happy, and healthy, and free…

Which begs the question. What is he going to do about it ? 

Eventually, they will have to separate. He can't avoid that, and even entertaining the opposite would be dangerously naive. But maybe...maybe, in this brief period of time where their lives are entangled, they can be good for each other. Maybe it's not about the ending ; maybe it's about the journey.

  
  


Lucas starts moving slightly in his arms, making the cutest little noises, indicating he is on the edge of wakefulness, and Eliott unwillingly opens his eyes.

  
  
  


Holy fuck.

  
  


He jolts awake. 

  
  


The protective sigils he made yesterday...they've been destroyed. Viciously.

  
  


Claw marks slashing them through, some having taken whole chunks of the wall with it. And...shit. An entire corner of the bed is missing, as if _something_ had taken a bite out of it. He looks down at the ground and it's the same, their protective circle has been blown wide open.

But….if their defenses were torn down then...how the fuck are they still alive ? How did they sleep through all of it so peacefully ? 

  
  


_ You're welcome, little one _ , a voice rumbles deep in his brain.

This time, the surprise pushes him to sit upright, jostling Lucas in the process. 

  
  


"What…?" 

  
  


He turns back. Lucas looks at him, propped up on his elbows. His bright blue eyes are full of confusion, his hair a mess.

For a moment, Eliott forgets everything else. 

  
  


Gods, he's so beautiful. Eliott wants to kiss him so badly it hurts.

  
  


"How are you feeling ?" He asks softly instead. 

  
  


"I…," he says, at a loss, and then blinks and flops backwards, pressing palms into his eyes. "Fuck."

Eliott lies back down next to him.

"Do you...do you remember what happened yesterday ?" He asks after a moment. 

  
  
  
  


Lucas nods. It's as if he has trouble coming to terms with it. Eliott still has no clue how to address it either, to be honest. How the fuck can they even begin to...

  
  


"So...am I actually fired, then? Because I can go if you still want me to?" Eliott tries for some levity. He doesn't want to push Lucas into talking about what happened with his mother's ghost and honestly he wouldn't know what to do if Lucas did. The earlier events of the evening were messy as hell, but easier to address right now. 

"Please, no." Lucas's eyes fly open in a panic, turning towards him. Well, maybe after yesterday, that was the wrong thing to say. "I'm so sorry for everything I did and said yesterday. But please don't leave me."

"It's okay," Eliott says, shuffling closer in reassurance, "I'm not going anywhere. As long as you want me here." 

Lucas nods, and fixes his eyes into Eliott's. "I shouldn't have said what I said." He sounds very upset. Oh, so he remembers. "I don't think you're pathetic, I think you're the best thing that ever happened to me." 

Those words go right to Eliott's heart, and he didn't realize how much he needed to hear that until he does. 

"Yeah ?"

"I don't understand why you care so much, though. Yesterday I was such a bitch to you and you ….and you stayed and saved my life instead of leaving me, again. I just...I don't deserve you. And it fucks me up, and that's why I...but I know it's not an excuse, I just...I just know you're going to leave, eventually, and I..." Lucas stops, biting his lips as if to prevent himself from saying more.

Eliott brushes a strand of hair back from Lucas's face with a tentative finger. He's so...so much of...everything. Strong and fragile and messed up and brave and vulnerable and determined and lost and...gods.

"That's because you don't fool me, Lucas Lallemant. I see right through you."

Lucas blushes, embarrassed, but his eyes light up and Eliott knows. He wants to be  _ seen _ , just like everyone. 

"You've been alone with this burden for a very long time," Eliott says, the words coming easy without needing to be repeated in a shower, "and you think it's easier to be an asshole because if they hate you, then at least you know where you stand. And you don't have to live your days in fear of people leaving or letting you down."

Lucas exhales slowly. Eliott repeats the motion, carefully tucking wayward hair behind Lucas's ear. 

"I know what that's like," he continues, "I've been on the run for most of my life. Treated like a plague. It's so easy to start seeing people as a liability. But I just...I can't take it anymore. I like working for you. I like how useful it makes me feel and I like...the way you made a place for me in your life." 

_ I like the way you look at me, like I am worthy of being at your side _ , he doesn't say. 

"I like watching over you, because I feel nobody has done that in a very long time. And I hate the way the other gods are treating you, when they should be your  _ family _ ." He can't stop the acid in his voice. "You deserve better." He takes a deep breath. "I don't want to leave you, Lucas. But I also can't be there for you to punch at everytime you're scared. I don't want to watch you destroy yourself. I mean, isn't that exactly what  _ they _ want ? To get you out of the way ?" 

  
  


Lucas closes his eyes. "I'm sorry. I…" His lips are trembling. "I just...sometimes, I don't see another way. At least, like that, I can choose..." 

  
  


"That's what they want you to think." Eliott says, passion rising in his voice. "They want you to feel scared and hopeless and cornered, because if you don't, if you're at full capacity, then you're a threat to them." 

He cups Lucas's neck with his palm, rubbing circles into the underside of his jaw with his thumb. "You could rewrite the entire system if you tried. I know it." 

He sees Lucas's eyelids flutter as he takes in what Eliott is saying, his delicate features flushing with renewed determination.

Lucas opens his eyes again, and this time, there is steel in there, and it thrills Eliott to the core. He moves his own hand to the side of Eliott's neck, mirroring his gesture. 

"You're right. I'm tired of letting those fuckers get to me. I'm tired of doing the easy thing and letting my fears get the best of me." He sighs. "You deserve better, and so do I." Eliott can't help but marvel at his ability to pull himself together under those circumstances. 

Then Lucas looks at Eliott's lips, and the thrill turns dangerous. And he notices how close their faces are now, how they've inched towards each other without even noticing, how little effort it would take for them to reach each other's lips.

  
  


"Fuck." Lucas swears.

  
  


Yeah, fuck sums it about all up. He wants to close the gap between them, too, especially now, with this new found intimacy between them, and Lucas's openness, and the shock of last night still hovering over them…now that they're together in this bed again...what better way to celebrate being alive...and Lucas's lips are so close...

But he knows that would be a bad idea. Not only because of their godly connection, but also because Lucas uses sex as a self-destructive pattern, and he doesn't want to be part of that right now.

"Let's not go there just yet," he suggests instead. "I'm going to be your friend, and I'm going to help you figure this out. How does that sound?" 

Lucas blinks. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be best." He smiles slowly. "Would be easier if you weren't so beautiful, though."

Eliott's face goes red. "Well, uh. Right back at you." Shit. Okay, time to use humor to deflect again. "But don't worry, l'll wear a paper bag with holes over my eyes next time I come to work. Fancy, no ?" 

Lucas laughs that time. "Yeah, if I want to scare all my business partners to death. Could be an interesting strategy." 

"I'll draw a funny face on it too, if you want." 

Lucas giggles. "I'll tell Zeus I found my Hades. He'll going to think I completely lost it." 

  
  
  


Oh fuck. 

  
  
  


He laughs too, but he can't help but feel uneasy at the reminder of the fact that he is promising to be there for Lucas but somewhere down the line...he's going to disappoint him too.

But that's not that big of a deal. What he needs to do is help Lucas find more people to help him, more allies, more potential friends. There were gods willing to help him, Poseidon and the others. He is willing to bet that there are a lot of people who find him as brilliant as Eliott does. Eliott can be his stepping stone to opening up to people again, and when it's done, him disappearing won't be that bad.

_ Why would you do that, little one ? Why leave Persephone now that we've found her ? We belong at her side. _ The voice in the back of his head booms.

Great, is the Underworld Lord going to provide a commentary track for the rest of his life now ?

_ I can make my own choices _ , Eliott responds to it.  _ Fuck off.  _

But it's a very half-hearted se ntiment.

  
  


…

  
  


They finally decide to emerge from the bed ; but Eliott quickly notices that Lucas seems to be very reluctant to leave his side at all. Some of the nervousness of yesterday is still very much present. 

They find some casual clothes in Lucas's dressing room - Eliott really can't fit in any of Lucas's dress shirts or pants so he is given a sweater and sweatpants. But it's fine, it's not as if they are going to go to the office today anyway. The clock on the wall indicates it's already three past noon, which isn't surprising as it had to be the early hours of the morning when they came back.

The floor of the salon and the kitchen are coated in thick, black gunk. And it stinks, too.

"Fucking hell," Lucas swears. "My interior decorators are going to think I'm doing this on purpose."

"We can't stay here." Eliott says. "Did you see what happened to the sigils in the bedroom ? This place is compromised. If they found a way in, they'll do it again."

"Shit." Lucas says. "You're right."

  
  
  
  


...

  
  
  
  


He waits as Lucas packs a bag. They'll go to Eliott's apartment first, and figure out what to do from there - the stench here is just too much to bear, and toxic on top of that, and it's too present a reminder of what happened yesterday.

Eliott hasn't brought up Lucas's mother, because he figured that Lucas didn't choose to let him know about it in the first place and he should be the one to decide to broach the subject or not. 

But then they're about to leave when Lucas stops in the middle of the salon, above where the whirlpool opened, and brings something up from the floor. 

Eliott walks to him. It's a spray of small, blue flowers. 

"Myosotis," Lucas says, his voice shaking. "Also known as forget-me-nots." His eyes are filled with tears again.

Eliott does the first thing that comes to mind and wraps Lucas in his arms, and thankfully, Lucas doesn't clam up but hugs him back, and Eliott feels tears wet his shoulder but it's okay. For now, they don't have to talk about it.

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  


Once they're out of the penthouse and settled downstairs, they order some food. Lucas is back in executive mode ; he'd taken one look in his fridge, stocked full of frozen dinners, and had found it in himself to not make any remarks, thankfully. But he had grabbed his phone and Eliott couldn't deny it would be nice to have something solid in their bellies that isn't microwave sludge either.

When the door rings, he goes to get their food, and it's not a delivery boy that he is greeted with, but instead a familiar face. 

"I found the delivery guy downstairs and relieved him," Imane, Lucas's friend, says. Then she walks past him into the apartment, "since  _ someone _ has apparently forgotten how to use a phone." She looks as put together as last time, now wearing a deep red pantsuit and veil combo, with an intricate silver necklace around her neck and laced boots.

Lucas looks like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. 

"Had some fun yesterday, didn't we ?" As she puts the food on the kitchen counter she also slams a wad of newspapers down. 

FLOWER MADNESS, Eliott has the time to read, and  _ Persephone unhinged ! _ before Lucas picks it up. 

"Is it time to finally face the truth that some of our Gods may be a threat to public safety, and to the property of ordinary citizens ?" He reads before smashing it back down, tone outraged. "Of fucking course ! Of course that slimey piece of shit would make it so his name is left out of there. Ordinary citizens my ass." 

Imane raises her eyebrows.

  
  


"I didn't just go smash some random people's houses, come on ! I went after some of Zeus' properties. That asshole threatened to lock me in a tower if I didn't start to 'behave'" he explains, loading all the irony on that last word.

  
  


"Alright, understandable," Imane says, "but also very very stupid. You are aware of that new law they're trying to pass, right ?" 

  
  


Lucas nods, embarrassed. 

  
  


"Had it occurred to you that maybe Zeus was goading you into doing something unreasonable?" 

  
  


He laughs. "No way ! He has just as much to lose as me. Well, less, but that's because he's a bad businessman. I can't count on both fingers the number of deals and start ups I nabbed right in front his nose -" he interrupts himself, and frowns.

Then he opens the newspaper again, scanning until he finds what he was looking for.

  
  


"The proposed law would, among other things, render unlawful any profit or operation that can be demonstrated to be linked to the use of godly gifts." He reads. "Fuck."

  
  


"What ?"

  
  


"I started my whole fortune by using my powers. So they could make a case to take everything away. Argue that my powers give me unreasonable business acumen or whatever. But Zeus, he got all his money from his family. He would be safe. Mostly. He doesn't use his powers for shit except light shows during his parties and scaring other gods into doing his bidding. Fuck !" He swears again. "I should have seen this coming." He gets up and rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm so fucking stupid."

  
  


"Sometimes, yes." Imane says. "But not usually. You can still turn this around." She rummages into the food bag and gets a steamy bun out, that she bites into.

  
  


"That piece of shit, acting so high and mighty, but what he really wants is to take me out of the competition. Fucking asshole." He swears.

  
  


"Get your head back in the game, Lallemant. He's waiting for you to crumble, you can't give him that satisfaction."

Lucas takes a deep breath. "You're right. The both of you," he says, looking back at Eliott. "Thanks for the pep talk, Imane, but I don't want to take too much of your time with this."

She snorts. "Who do you take me for, a fair weather friend ? Besides, if Charles stands to profit from this law...I smell corruption somewhere down the line. And those Temperance fuckers, and your ghosts. It's all linked somehow. I'm going to do some digging."

"Really ? Do you have time for this ?" 

"I already told my parents that I would reduce my hours so I could help with that mosque thing. It's fine. They can go without me for a bit, and besides, I have a whole pack of trainees at work just ravenous for a bit more free rein. This city has been bossed around by the same small group of people for too long. It makes me want to kick that hornet's nest a bit." 

  
  


"Thank you so much, Imane."

  
  


She smiles. "Brunch is on you until we solve this."

  
  


"Of course."

  
  


"What are you going to do, now ?"

  
  


Lucas sighs, appearing puzzled. "I don't know. I have a feeling the press is going to be on my ass now."

Imane winces. "Yeah, speaking of...there's already a few outside."

Lucas swears.

"We need to figure out what is going on with those ghosts," Eliott intervenes. The other two look at him with a slight look of surprise, but fuck it. He's not just going to stand around and wait to be called upon anymore. He's in this now, and this is his area of expertise. "My old master gave me a contact, a necromancer-witch he said was trustworthy. She might be able to help us. Besides, I need some more supplies. Wherever we're going, we're going to need some more heavy warding. And you should get some protection tattoos." He tells Lucas.

Imane frowns. "Isn't necromancy forbidden within the city ?" 

"I don't know about that. I just know she has a shop on Orpheus Street."

"That's...that's in the Magic Underground." Lucas says. 

  
  


Eliott frowns. "Is that bad ?" 

  
  


"Well...it's dangerous. And, as the name indicates, it's underground. It started as a black market for illegal magic goods in the abandoned part of the subway system, the part that was shut down after a meltdown in that amulet production factory fifty years ago on the Left Bank. And it grew from there, they dug new tunnels, etc. It's a whole city under the city now. It's only accessible to magic users and it's notoriously hard to enter. And, uh. Being seen there isn't great for your reputation."

  
  


"Let me guess," Imane asks, "you've been there before."

  
  


Lucas shrugs. "They had some really interesting breeding techniques for magical plants under there. It was just professional curiosity."

  
  


"Of course." Imane rolls her eyes.

  
  


"Well," Eliott says lightly, "it might hide us from the press, at least, right ?" 

  
  
  


Lucas smiles. "You're right. And maybe we'll confuse the ghosts, too." He grabs himself a bun from the food bag and bites into it with gusto. He still looks somewhat pale and shaken, but Eliott can see the life blooming on his cheeks and in his life again, and he's so glad for it. "Well, sounds like it's time to go on an adventure." 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who doesn't love a bit of hurt/comfort ? this was this chapter in a nutshell lol 
> 
> after this one, we are heading to fluff town again a little. chapter 9 is loooooong and uncommonly cute. 
> 
> now yes, it may seen a bit fast after Lucas going through something quite traumatic, but i promise it won't be unadressed, he's just the more 'let's move on and DO something about it type at the moment...introspection will have to happen at some point though ;) 
> 
> alright, so what did you think of this one ? be honest ^^ 
> 
> next time : the Magic Underground <3


	10. Chapter 9 - Lucas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliott and Lucas go on some adventures in the Magic Underground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello guys ! as always thank you for your lovely feedback and comments. 
> 
> chapters are starting to get longer ! i hope you enjoy it as much i did writing it. It's mosly fun and fluff, with a few touches of angst/comfort. 
> 
> cw : zombies, some violence, very slight claustrophobia

_ Chapter 9 - Lucas  _

  
  
  


Lucas is glad they have something to do now, so at least he doesn't have to think about last night. He's never been the type to dwell ; give him a problem to solve and he'll be back in his element.

They avoid the paparazzi by asking Imane to drive out the shittiest, most beat up car in Lucas' collection while they hid in the backseat. Then, a few blocks away, she steps out to walk back to her car, after making them promise to stay in contact, and Eliott takes the wheel. 

"The complicated thing about the entrance to the Magic Underground is that it changes places depending on the time. If I'm correct, right now, it has to be in the ruins of the old temple by the west city gate."

Eliott punches in the route in the GPS, and they're on their way. They've put on the shabbiest clothes they have, with hats and sunglasses, which hopefully will allow them to go around unnoticed. He wouldn't be caught dead in clothes like these usually, and this combination of khaki pants, orange shirt and baseball cap is particularly horrid. But the jacket is Eliott's, deep green with a lot of pockets. He'd taken one look at Lucas's leather jacket and claimed it was still too posh. Since it's the one he got from a corner vendor and used to wear when he visited the Magic Underground before, Lucas highly doubts that. 

He has a nagging suspicion that Eliott just wanted to see him in some of his clothes. But he's not complaining. It's oversized so he can wrap himself in it, the inside is used and soft like a blanket, and it smells like Eliott, woodsy and warm and a little mineral. He loves how comfortable it makes him feel. It's a reminder of how safe he felt in Eliott's arms last night. And that's….mind boggling. He doesn't even know the guy that well.

Most men he lets into his bed want one thing from him and one thing only. And he's fine with that. He usually finds it so embarrassing when people put emotion into it. But, Eliott, he's….

He obviously wants Lucas. It's as clear as day on his face. But he cares about his emotional well being even more than that. He knows Lucas needs a friend right now more than he needs a quick fuck he will then be too embarrassed to talk to afterwards. The protectiveness and consideration he treated Lucas with when he threw himself at him in the club, and the way he held him yesterday when he was at his absolute lowest, it's...it's not something he's ever experienced before. And he feels all cut up over it.

But it's better to angst over that than over the fact that he almost let his mother's ghost drown him yesterday.

So he lets his eyes wander over the curve of Eliott's neck, the angle of his jaw, the way his hair curls wildly in every direction under that ridiculous bucket hat he's now wearing, the corner of his lips…

"Wow, the plants are really sad around here, aren't they ?" Eliott asks, obviously trying to make conversation. 

Lucas blinks and looks away from Eliott and out of the window, to the side of the street where hydrangea bushes are wilting, sad little floral heads hanging sadly in the sun. Yeah. Sad.

He waves his fingers lazily, sending a wave of energy in their direction, and they explode into lushness, now green and lovely, flowers strong and colorful, and then other flowers sprout between them, from dead seeds and remains of previous years, sunflowers, wildflowers, a whole peach tree with ripening fruits in a matter of seconds, a giant rhododendron bush…along their car, the whole street long.

  
  
  


Whoa. That's not what he intended. He looks down and he can see sprouts peeking out of the glove box.

  
  


"Umm...that's nice." Eliott says cautiously. "But...aren't we supposed to stay under the radar ?" 

  
  


Shit. Maybe this is yet another reason for the fucknuts of the press to accuse him of vegetal terrorism.

  
  
  


"I'm sorry," he says, deciding to be honest. "I just meant to give them a little boost. My powers have been a bit...I don't know, stronger than they used to be. I don't know why, but…"

  
  
  
  


Eliott frowns. "Maybe we can ask the witch."

  
  


"Yeah." He feels a rush of affection for the way Eliott so steadily considers Lucas's issues his. "Hey Eliott, I'm giving you a raise." 

"What ? No ! I told you I didn't do this for the money. You pay me more than enough already." He looks at Lucas with an exasperated face. 

Embarrassment crowds his throat. "Sorry. I just...I want you to know that I appreciate your help." He just sucks at that real bad, apparently.

"Well then, just say that ! No need to throw money at me ! I'm not a stripper !" He laughs as he says that.

"Okay, okay. Sorry."

"Besides, if you're worried about power disparities in our friendship, I can promise you I never once thought you were above me because of your money."

  
  


Ouch. Lucas laughs, a little embarrassed.

  
  


"Well, ok, good, because you're getting a raise anyway. Hazard pay and longer hours and shit. It's out of my hands, it's labor law."

  
  
  


Eliott rolls his eyes affectionately. 

  
  
  


"If it makes you feel good, then ok I guess."

  
  
  


"It does." 

  
  


"And stop talking about money from now on, ok ?" 

  
  


"Yes, sir." 

They both laugh at that. 

After a while, Eliott turns on the radio. A traditional song, old woman with a kithara, comes on, melodramatic tones about a young woman who had her love chosen to be a god and therefore promised to be another woman, and about how tragedy cannot be avoided in a mortal life. They ignore the connotations and bob their heads and sing along dramatically like idiots.

  
  


It's great. Lucas is grateful Eliott doesn't treat him as if he were fragile, after last night.

  
  


...

Finally, they arrive at their destination, park the car, and grab their bags. The old ruins are wedged between two higher stone buildings, in a small street, behind a playground and a trellis of ivy. It's a good place to hide a secret entrance, discrete, away from traffic.

Lucas stands in front of the old piles of stones and lets his consciousness roam. The entrance is designed to be unobtrusive to anyone who doesn't know it's there, to appear as an unremarkable bump of errant magic, simple residue. For a moment he's worried it's gone, that he is going to appear like a fool. 

But then….yes. There. It feels like an invisible handle, and Lucas opens it with his mind.

  
  


_ Pay the toll, _ a voice says inside his brain.

  
  


What ? That's new.

  
  


_ I don't know what you mean, _ he thinks at the voice.

  
  


_Speak a secret out loud_ , the voice says. _Something that nobody knows._ _And your friend must do the same._

  
  


Ugh. Witches. Must be about the energy or something. 

  
  


He explains it to Eliott. This is going to be embarrassing. For it to give out enough energy, it can't be too small a thing.

  
  


"I am still a bit afraid of the dark," he says, out loud. "That's why I always sleep with my blinds open, to have the city lights and so on. It comforts me."

He blushes, hoping Eliott won't comment.

There is a moment of silence, then, 

  
  


"I've never been in a real relationship," Eliott says softly. "I used to tell people I had a high school sweetheart but that wasn't true, I just didn't want them to find me pathetic."

  
  


Oh. 

  
  


_ Acceptable. Hope you have a flashlight, flower boy. _ The voice says.

The ground starts to shake and rumble, and then a stone pushes itself to the side and a trap door opens, revealing stairs that disappear into the darkness.

  
  


Great. 

  
  


Lucas turns on the flashlight on his phone, and steps into the tunnel. 

  
  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


At first, there isn’t much to see. The tunnel is small and square, just enough for Lucas to walk in but Eliott has to bow down so the top of his head doesn’t scrape against the rock. The walls are rough hewn, man-made. 

At some point, they arrive at a crossroads. Lucas has to engage his magical sight again to see an inscription scrawled on the rock in elegant writing, simply saying, _ City Center. _

Then, out of the blue, the light of his phone goes off. He tries to get it back on, but it appears his battery is dead. 

“Shit,” he swears. “I wish I could call on Jeremy to bring me my wireless charger right now, I’m not going to lie.” In the commotion of yesterday and this morning, he’d completely forgot about that. How do people go through life without a PA, seriously ? 

  
  


Eliott chuckles. 

“Don’t worry, mine is still at fifty-seven percent.” He extends a hand to Lucas. “I can be your guide, if you want.” 

  
  


Lucas scoffs. 

  
  


“It’s fine ! I can still see as long as I stay near you !”

  
  


“As you like.” Eliott replies mischievously. “But the offer still stands.” He doesn’t add,  _ since you’re a chickenshit, _ and Lucas is somewhat grateful. He’s a grown ass man, he should be able to walk through a dark corridor without wanting to hold his bodyguard’s hand, for fuck’s sake. 

  
  
  


But it’s still a rough time, as they walk forward, and find more corridors, a whole labyrinth down the city, stairs, more crossroads they can only decipher thanks to Lucas’s magic abilities - someone without them would be completely lost down here. The wind howls and sometimes, Lucas gets the uncanny feeling they are being watched. 

  
  
  


It reminds him of nightmares he used to have, about suddenly finding himself trapped in the Underworld, never to see the sunlight again. 

  
  


Finally, finally, they reach something that looks like an abandoned subway station. On the opposite bank, a tiny, wizened old woman with a trolley is looking at the tiles as if they contained the secrets of the universe. She looks exactly like a witch in a fairytale, with wild hair and shabby clothes and a pointy hat, and her trolley seems to be full of ...wiggling things. Lucas shivers. 

She looks up as they cross through the railways by a makeshift bridge made of old wooden boxes. 

  
  


“Ah, Persephone ! Long time no see !” 

  
  


“Magda,” he says, trying to be stern. 

  
  


She narrows his eyes at him. 

  
  


“Heard yer a big deal upstairs now, huh ?” She pokes him with a stick. “Well, you’re not escaping it. You still gotta say hi to Bernie.” 

  
  


Lucas makes a face as she pulls the cover of the trolley, revealing her horrid plant-monster hybrid full of tentacles and teeth. Lucas loves plants, but that thing, it’s just an abomination, some animal in hiding that his powers have no grip over whatsoever. 

  
  


“Hello my lovely,” the woman croons before turning back towards them. “Bernie will tell us if your intentions are pure. Come on, give us a kiss.” 

Lucas extends his hand, reluctantly, and the thing wraps a slimy tentacle around his wrist, looking at him almost gleefully with all its little spider eyes. He shivers in disgust, and feels a small jolt of electricity, before the thing lets him go. 

  
  
  
  


He wipes his hand on the trolley’s cover. The witch puts her face even closer to her little monster, looking at it pensively as if they have a telepathic connection. Which...They probably have. 

“Well well, not even here to swindle anyone, eh ?” She laughs. “Not that I have too many grudges against a good swindler. That takes talent,too. It’s the cops we gotta avoid, and the tattletales, you know ? But from what Bernie tells me from your previous adventures...you are doing a bit of hiding yourself, eh ?” She laughs again, seeming to find Lucas’s predicament highly comedic. 

  
  


He scowls at her, and she rolls her eyes. “Now your lovely new friend here has to go too. What’s your name ?”    
  


“Eliott,” he says, giving her a charming smile, and extending his hand towards the creature as if he was going to shake its tentacles or something. “Hello, Bernie.” There is no disgust on his features, only curiosity. But then again, with his job, he probably has a very high tolerance for disgusting stuff. 

The process repeats and when Magda leans towards Bernie again, she puts her hand on her heart this time, and just says, “Beautiful.” She pats Eliott’s shoulder, or more precisely her lower arm, since the shoulder is too high for her to reach. “You have a beautiful soul, my dear.” Suddenly, Eliott does seem a little uncomfortable. 

  
  


She looks at them again. “Be careful. The Underground has been...restless as of late. Many ghosts, many errant spirits. Do not give your name to strangers asking for it.” 

“Thank you, Magda. We will.” 

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


They go up a flight of stairs tiled like the old subway, and then finally emerge into the Magic Underground proper. 

  
  


It’s an actual street, with a high ceiling carved into the rock, and on both side, small rickety houses, of stone and wood, with borrowed parts seeming to appear to older buildings, beautiful carvings and statues looted away, signboards that don’t belong, bright painted walls in discording tones of purple, pink, blue, green. A musky, almost scintillating fog hangs in the air. And it’s crowded. A lot of people wearing obvious signs of magic on themselves, flashing auras, wings, horns, extra eyes. 

It hasn’t changed that much since the last time Lucas was here - maybe five years ago ? - and yet, he feels like he has stepped into a completely different world. 

The energy is still…a lot. He remembers loving it at first, how ebullient and chaotic it felt, how full of possibilities. But it was demanding, and hungry, and as he kept more and more of his magic to himself for business purposes, he started seeing it as a waste of time. It’s strange, he thinks, of being here under these circumstances. It's also a very welcome relief from all the bullshit upstairs - like stepping into another world. His worries seem less tangible all of a sudden.

Eliott is taking it all in with wide eyes and an expression of wonder. Lucas can imagine this must be quite something to someone who spent a significant chunk of his life being persecuted for his magic.

He remembers very well how to find Orpheus Street, perpendicular to Main Street, and right across from Eurydice Street. It is advised to passers-by to always walk Orpheus Street from the same direction, as looking into Eurydice Street from there is supposed to bring bad luck and estrangement from the people you care about. 

  
  


Orpheus Street is one of the older, better maintained parts of the Underground - each shop front lavishly decorated with painted murals, representing all sorts of mythic creatures. Pointed little roofs, cobbled stones on the ground, enchanted trees framing vitrines, little lanterns hung above doorsteps to signal the shop is open for business. It’s lovely, somewhere between quaint and delightfully spooky, and it indicates that Eliott’s contact is probably well respected in the Underground. 

However, once they reach the number 33, the address they’re looking for, they have to contend with a snuffed out lantern and a sign on the door that says “Away for business.” There are no opening hours either. It's the right place, the three little skulls above the door fitting for a necromancer, she's just...not there.

“Witches,” Lucas grumbles. “Not even fucked to show up to open their own shop.” 

They enter the shop next door, a maker of enchanted keys, and ask the owner if he knows when the witch nearby will be back, but he has no clue, and tells them that sometimes she is out for days at the time, and if their request is really important, they’re safer coming back in a few days. 

  
  


Fuck. Lucas really isn’t sure they can afford to wait that long. 

  
  


“Isn’t there anywhere else we could go ?” He looks around them. There is an amulet maker, a library of banished books, an occult tailor…

“I trust my master’s advice.” Eliott says. “But...it’s up to you. I don’t know this place.” 

Lucas sighs. “The problem is, there are a lot of swindlers in this place. And...I don’t know that I trust random people here with my secrets.” He looks at his watch - it’s almost seven. “It’s no use, anyway, most of the shops are going to start to close.” 

He thinks about going back through the tunnels only to find himself hounded by the paparazzi again, incapable of going back to his apartment anyway. 

  
  


“Let’s get a hotel here. At least, we won’t be bothered.”

  
  


...

  
  


As they learn from several passers-by, the only hotel in the Underground is closed for repairs.  Instead they find themselves making their way towards a boarding house they have been told still has room, two levels below main street. They grab food from a street vendor on the way there, and it's already late when they finally manage to get a room.

It's very dingy, boarded up windows and chintz everywhere, quaint floral wallpaper, smelling like moth balls. But throwing money around in the Underground doesn't get you anywhere except kidnapped for ransom. And the advantage of this place is that it's warded to hell and back. Apparently it's common for people here to be visited by ghosts but it's bad for business, so there are protective symbols all over the room, in quaint little frames on yellowed paper. Eliott tells him there is sigil work under the wallpaper, too, and that he can feel that the room is safe.

The problem is, well...that it only has one, large bed, taking up most of the room, and since this was the last room, they can't switch.

"I can sleep on the floor." Eliott proposes.

"Don't be ridiculous." Lucas answers. "There isn't even space for that." 

They take their turns cleaning up in the small, purple tiled little bathroom, and settle into bed, each carefully eking out their space on each side. It's a squeaky, old box spring mattress, and Lucas immediately misses his memory foam.

Eliott asks if Lucas wants to keep the lights on, but there is no little bed lamp, only the one hanging over their heads and it's way too bright for them to sleep if it stays on. And he'll be fucked if he has to go to the entrance to ask for a bloody baby light. 

So he says it's no big deal.

And the lights go off.

  
  


Fuck, it's so dark. It reminds him that he is actually underground, miles under the earth, and it feels almost claustrophobic. There are no city lights here or night sky to watch over him through the window.

It feels heavy on his chest, and, inevitably, his thoughts turn to last night. Everything he's tried to repress to function through the day. 

It had been so strange to see his mother's face again, and in the first few seconds, Lucas had realized something horrible - that she didn't match the picture in his mind. That he'd started to forget her. He has no pictures of her, nothing left. It's as if she never existed at all, if for his existence. But this was a corrupted image, too, not by his memories but by death, dead eyes and blue skin, and the picture of his mother as she was - it's completely gone.

The horrible grief comes back, too, and the sensation of cold water slowly rising around his legs and then his chest ; like an awful cage, and a cold hand on his shoulder and from within himself, the awful awareness that he didn't deserve to escape this…

"Lucas." Eliott's voice cuts through the darkness. "Are you okay ?" 

He realises, then, how fast he is breathing.

"I…no." He croaks. 

Light flashes into his eyes - Eliott's phone, and then his face. He raises his arm and the covers a little, as if to invite Lucas closer.

Lucas bites his lip, and feels a rush of shame for needing this, and yet - he can't resist the offer. So he crawls closer, and turns around, nestling himself against the curve of Eliott's body, and Eliott wraps his arms around him and holds him close. Just like last night. 

Thankfully, Eliott turns the light off, and then, maybe for the first time in his life, he realizes the intimacy that the dark gives. It should be awkward without the turmoil of last night, when he had gone to Eliott like to a raft in the storm...but it isn't.

The relief that hits him is tremendous. He doesn't understand it but he welcomes it. The warmth of Eliott's chest against his back, the feeling of his heartbeat, of being held. He could almost cry from it and fuck, this is so strange. It's as if he fits there. He feels safe. 

He feels safe.

  
  
  


…

  
  


He sleeps surprisingly well - no nightmares, just warmth.

He is woken up by golden light filtering through past the boarded up windows. It's not the light of day, though - how could it be - but it's flickering, dancing. He is confused for a moment before he remembers.

"What...what's happening ?" Eliott mumbles into his hair. 

"The dancing suns." Lucas whispers. "It's...they've enchanted balls of light to go around the streets early to let people know it's the morning."

"It's beautiful." Eliott says, and his breath is like a caress across the back of Lucas's neck, raising goosebumps on his skin.

It really is, Lucas muses, still sleepy as he watches the light whirling in strange crossed shadows, bringing new life to the faded floral wallpaper.

Later, he will attribute them staying in each other's arms for so long while being both awake to the confusion of transiting out of sleep. But right now all he knows is he doesn't want to move. He feels like a small mammal in a burrow under the earth, soft, warm, silky, sharing warmth with his mate as the world rages on outside.

It's strange, how he got so many one night stands and he still ended up touch starved.

…

Eventually they have to untangle and Lucas does so regretfully but he is now too awake to ignore the awkwardness.

They get up and get ready, and don't talk about it, even if they avoid each other's eyes for a moment. But once in the breakfast room downstairs, everything is back to normal. 

They line up, getting some metal trays in the process, filling them up with strange looking food - purple pancakes, blood oranges, a truly inordinate amount of mushrooms in every shape imaginable - and find a spot at one of the communal tables. The room is quite full, and privacy is not really an option. 

The man closest to them looks like he escaped from the forges of Hephaestus, Lucas thinks - tall, broad, bushy hair and beard, traces of soot on his face, rugged clothing. 

They've been eating for a while when Eliott, out of the blue, asks the man,

“Pardon me, sir, could I trouble you for a bit of information ? My boyfriend and I are looking for a curse breaker, or a necromancer. Would you happen to know where we can find a good one ?” 

  
  


Lucas almost chokes on his orange juice. Boyfriend ?? And then, also, he’s not very fond of the whole ‘talking about your issues to strangers’ thing…

The man doesn’t answer for a minute and then he scoffs. “Everyone’s a cursebreaker these days. What’s your problem exactly ?” 

  
  
Lucas tenses up and sends a worried look to Eliott, hoping to convey to him discretely that he please not flap out the entirety of what Lucas is dealing with. 

Eliott raises his eyebrows ever so slightly and smiles, before going with, 

“Our cat keeps coming back from the dead. And he’s angry at us. I don’t understand, he was always so sweet when he was alive. And the neighbors keep complaining about the smell, too.”

Lucas feels a flush of relief.

The stranger laughs. “Well, okay then, you should go see my cousin. He’s got a storefront at Erinyes Street. If you tell him Rudolf sent you, he’ll squeeze you in.” 

  
  


Eliott gives him a radiant smile, and then addresses a smirk at Lucas’s direction.

  
  


Lucas stuffs his mouth with mushrooms to keep himself from grinning back. 

  
  


…

  
  


Once they’re outside, ready for the day, Eliott can’t help but gloat a bit. 

“See ! It helps to be nice to people !” 

  
  


Lucas rolls his eyes. 

  
  


“Yeah, well, I hope he’s not sending us to one of those charlatans. I’m not telling his cousin shit until he can prove he can actually read my aura. And... boyfriends, really ?” 

  
  


Eliott slides his arm under Lucas’s, so they walk with elbows linked. “Yes, I thought that would be a good cover. Since, you know, if anyone is looking for you, they won’t pay attention to a cute couple of clueless tourists, right ?” 

Lucas wants to point out that really, most people here would never be caught dead talking to either the police, representatives of the Fates, or the mainstream press. But he stops himself, because somehow, this fantasy is just so endearing...there’s no ill in being careful, right ? 

Nobody walks with their elbows linked unless they’re pretending to be corny folk dancers singing about jolly good fellows, though. So instead, he grabs Eliott’s hand. 

“Alright. Good plan.” Lucas says with a smirk of his own, and watches with delight as Eliott decomposes slightly, face red and hand slightly unsure before gripping back. 

Two can play at this game, and by the gods, when he plays, he plays to win. 

  
  
  


…

  
  


Their first move is to check if, this time, the witch of Orpheus Street is in. But they don't have any more luck, finding themselves again in front of the same closed sign. So they are left following the advice of this morning's stranger.

Erinyes Street is on the outskirts of the Underground, separated from Main Street by another set of tunnels. Thankfully those are lit by an array of fluorescent mushrooms, glowing electric blue in the dark, and the occasional lanterns.

They finally arrive at the street itself. More than an actual street, it's a tunnel in which  cave-like holes have been scooped out of the walls, allowing for an array of shop fronts nestled into the rock. The main light source here are enchanted crystals, and he sees Eliott's jaw fall open as he takes in the sight. And it is beautiful, in a rough sort of way. 

But number thirty seven, however, seems to be absent. The street stops at thirty four. Lucas frowns. 

They stop a passerby to ask, and he throws them a strange look before pointing them to the left tunnel at the end of the street. 

This one is a lot more cramped, and makes strange twists and turns, and the luminous crystals get more sparse as they go on. Lucas starts to get a very bad feeling in his stomach.

They arrive to a wider space again but - this one contains only ruins - and here the few crystals that remain glow an eerie green. 

There is a very creepy little laugh, and then a scraping sound as something emerges from behind the crumbling stone wall in front of them.

Fuck, not again.

He grabs at Eliott's arm in pure fright.

It's a dead creature - but wait a minute. 

Is that paint on its chest ?

  
  


And then a man slinks out of the shadows, dressed in all black, occult symbols hanging around his neck.

"Well, well, what have we here. Are you lost, my poor little lambs ? Don't you know it's dangerous to wander away from the flock ?"

Lucas feels a strong burst of revulsion as he notices there is not one, not two, but several dead things creeping out of the shadows. In the dark he sees teeth, flashes of bone peeking out from under rotten flesh. The stench of decay rises and wafts towards them. He can't help but be brought back to the last time he was in this situation and fuck, he is so tired of all of this shit. He brings his hand up to cover his mouth and nose, and shivers, brain blanked out in fear.

Eliott, however, doesn't lose an inch of his calm. Instead, he cocks his head slightly to the side. 

"You're controlling them, I see. Very clever. You're Rudolf's cousin, aren't you ? He told us to come to see you for a necromancy problem."

The man is slightly taken aback by Eliott's countenance, but then his wannabe diabolical grin is back.

"That's right, he sent you to me, and you fell straight into my trap like chickens to be plucked. Now, hand me your wallets."

"It's not right." Eliott says. "These restless souls want to be at peace, but you're keeping them from it."

"Oh boo-hoo, cry me a river. Now stop the speeches and give me your money ! Or else !" 

  
  
  


"I don't think so," Eliott says simply.

  
  
  


All the animated corpses fall to the ground, in a second. 

  
  
  


The necromancer's face is the one to decompose itself.

  
  


"But...what.. .why…" He tries to get himself together, and starts reciting an incantation in Ancient Greek, frowning, trying hard to appear scary and in control - but nothing happens. 

  
  


“Give me your wallet, Lucas.” Eliott asks softly. Lucas gives it to him, spellbound by the level of surety in his voice. He gets out a couple of hundred bills and sets them on the stone in front of them. “Here, for whatever is pushing you to do this. No need to get fussy, alright ?” 

  
  


The man scowls at him. “I don’t need your fucking charity ! I need my servants back ! What the fuck have you done to them ?”

  
  


Then he pulls out a gun. 

  
  


Shit.

  
  


“Do you know how long it’s taken me to put together the influence charm ? Give them back to me, now !”

  
  
  


“I can’t do that. They were never yours to begin with,” Eliott responds, his tone set. 

  
  
  


“Don’t get clever, you…” He waves his gun around. 

  
  
  


“Eliott…” Lucas says. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. He feels totally powerless and out of his depth and he fucking hates it. 

  
  


One of the corpses rises again, the tallest and strongest, the remains of an old man with broad shoulders and a weathered face. 

  
  


Lucas throws a glance at Eliott, whose face is just as surprised as him. What the fuck is happening ? 

  
  


A brief flicker of satisfaction goes over their assailant’s face - but it quickly disappears as the revenant walks up to him, stopping only a few centimeters from his face, and grabbing his gun. 

The man tries to shake himself free, pulling the trigger, but the bullet makes a dull sound as it punches a hole through the dead man’s flesh and coming out on the other side to hit the ground, but he doesn’t budge. Then he wrenches the gun away and throws it into the depths of the cave, a clattering sound indicating it must have slipped into a hole and is now far beyond any of their reaches. 

  
  


“But...But...I command you ! Let me be !” 

  
  
  


“NO.” The cavernous voice of the zombie says. “WE ARE NOT YOURS.” 

The man lets out a weak scream as the dead man closes his fist over his hand, and there is a sound of breaking bone. 

“Please stop,” Eliott says, his tone beseeching. 

  
  


The dead man stops, and releases his captive. The man lets out another low yelp and then scrambles to turn around and run into the tunnels, disappearing into the dark. 

The ghost-zombie turns around towards them, and Lucas can’t help but step back and heave in disgust as he sees its half putrefied face, teeth visible and gaping eye-sockets.

“MAY I BE AT PEACE ?” He asks. 

  
  


Eliott nods. How the fuck does he know what to do ?

  
  


“You may.” 

  
  


“THANK YOU.” The dead man says, genuine gratitude coming through in the beyond grave booming tones. 

  
  


Eliott then closes his eyes, and starts reciting a prayer, and the floor of the cave cracks open. Slowly, the dead man sinks into it, arms crossed onto his chest, the still intact corner of his mouth curling up in a slight smile. And then the ground closes again, and everything is still.    
  


Woah. What the fuck. 

  
  


“So uh...you’re a necromancer now ?” 

  
  


Eliott turns towards Lucas, eyes wide. “I have no idea what just happened. I...I could see it - the threads he’d bound around those - and they didn’t want to be held, and I...I just thought about cutting them, and then they were and I - this last one, though, he decided to stay at first and then he got stuck here and…” He frowns, and looks at his own hands in wonder. “The magic is so much stronger here. Or I don’t know, it’s...I can’t usually see...but maybe those that attack you, they also have threads…”

“Well, in any case, thank you for saving our asses. Again.” He brushes some dust off his sleeve. He could give Eliott some shit for getting them into this situation in the first place but he can't. That was just too badass. 

Eliott smiles. “You’re welcome.”

  
  


"Cool power move to give him the money regardless, but that would have worked with a twenty, too, right ?"

Eliott frowns at him.

"That wasn't a power move. You know most people don't do this sort of shit for fun, right ?"

Lucas feels very stupid all of a sudden. Because the truth is...yes, he is surrounded by people who mostly do anything for fun, or ego, or pride or boredom. The idea of necessity pushing anyone to do things this drastic is...well, it's embarrassingly far from his mind for a man who constantly calls himself besieged by fate.

  
  


…

  
  


“I’ve been thinking.” Eliott says, shoving a spoonful of chocolate toffee lava cake in his mouth, “I think my powers get stronger around you.” 

They’re sitting in a little café off Main Street, having decided that it might just be safer to find something in the city center, or simply wait for their witch to return. The place is quaint in an endearing way, with black and white pictures covering the walls and bouquets made of peacock feathers, and purple and red lampshades everywhere giving it all the glow of a theater backstage. 

“Maybe that’s why some people follow the gods. I never really got it, you know, the devotion thing, but this…”

  
  


Lucas frowns. 

  
  


“I think my powers have been getting stronger too, though.” 

Something strange passes over Eliott’s face, then, something he can’t entirely decipher. 

  
  


“Oh.”

  
  


“Maybe it’s because you have death related powers, and you know, Hades...maybe Persephone recognizes it as a substitute, or something. I don’t know.”

  
  


There is a slight moment of awkwardness. 

  
  


Then Eliott laughs. “You mean, I’m like Hades’ godly bed-warmer, keeping his spot warm until he returns, keeping his lovely consort company while he’s off on business.” 

Lucas’ cheeks heat up. 

“That’s not...why is that so funny to you ?” 

“This whole business is kind of ridiculous, don’t you think ?” 

He doesn’t seem to be weirded out, though, or scared of Hades' wrath, Lucas realizes, like he thought anyone would be at the idea of being with him like that, and something unknots in his chest. Could it be that he found someone that...But no. He can’t think about that right now. 

  
  


“Yeah, it is.” He concedes, and takes a bite of his own cheesecake. 

  
  


“Well, honestly, if that means I can snip the leash of any ghost before they go all out with the horror sound and visual effects, it’s a good thing to me.” 

  
  


…

They find one necromancer and two curse-breakers but they all respond with the same to their query : they are fully booked until at least, for the closest opening, two weeks. A store clerk confides in them that the place has been overrun by ghosts, revenants and the like in the last few months. 

“Fuck, what is going on in this place,” Lucas swears. 

  
  


“Congratulations on not yelling at anyone,” Eliott says cheekily. 

  
He huffs, but then stops himself from replying - it’s true. Old him would have given those store assistants an earful for letting him wait, even knowing he would have made a fool of himself. 

  
  


“Well, I’m a new man, now,” he says. “Close brushes with death and so on. And you know what ? Let’s just take the rest of the day off. Visit the sights.” 

  
  


Eliott’s expression turns to joy. “Really ? That would be awesome ! This place looks like it has so many cool hidden spots !” 

  
  


“Sure. I’m tired of queuing anyway. I can show you some of my favorite places from when I used to come here, if they’re still open. Then we can find a nice restaurant and shit.” Fuck, that sounds like a date, doesn’t it ? For good measure, he adds, “Since I just remembered you haven’t really been anywhere.” 

  
  


Eliott rolls his eyes. “Oh, you want to educate my peasant self, is that it ?” 

  
  


Shit, too much on the douchebag side this time. He really sucks at being casual, doesn’t he. 

  
  


Fuck. Might as well go all in. 

  
  


“No ! It’s more. For the sake of our cover and all that. Thought I might take you on a date.”

  
  


…

The first place he takes Eliott is of course, the Underground Greenhouses. 

  
  


The production of magical plants is tightly reglemented - he never really grew any himself, not wanting to give the Fates an actual reason to close his operation down, satisfying himself with just giving his blessing to regular varieties. But he’s still always been very interested in the process. 

So he spent hours here, watching the magician-botanists at work, not really aiming to understand the complex mechanics of their rituals, but letting himself be rocked gently by the dance of entangled energy. In exchange he would sometimes lend them his own, making their batches extra powerful. But after a while he got worried that the Fates would track his signature if they got their hands on any of these illegal plants, so he stopped.

The high vaulted entrance is dark, the walls of glass and metal barely visible, and the air muggy with quasi tropical warmth. It is also filled with lush bioluminescent plants - a kaleidoscope of leaves outlined in glowing purple and blue, the inside of a flower made clear by the outline of luminescent pink pollen. It's gorgeous, and his godly heart swells with ease as he finds himself surrounded by so much thriving life. But watching Eliott's enchantment is even better - his eyes flit around, not knowing where to set. 

"Holy shit, this is incredible." He presses Lucas's arm in appreciation. "Thank you so much for taking me to this place." He gets his nose closer to the bushes. "Wow, is that a hummingbird?" He says as he notices the little shapes fluttering, dancing around and drinking from the flowers with their needle long beaks.

"Careful," Lucas laughs, "Those are guardians of the flowers. They'll spear your nose through if you come too close." 

Eliott springs back, then looks at Lucas with a frown. "You're joking, aren't you ?" 

"Yeah, actually the plants can defend themselves."

Eliott straightens and smiles at him in the half dark. He's come away with a streak of luminescent pollen on his cheek. Lucas wants to brush it away with his thumb.

"So they're just like you. Beautiful but with a bite."

It's good that it's dark. His cheeks must be on fire. "I don't have glowy pollen though, sorry to disappoint." 

"Hm…" Eliott gets closer. "Maybe I should check. I'm  _ your _ guardian hummingbird, after all."

_ Oh no _ . _ What is this, botanical flirting ? _

  
  


Lucas is almost thankful and yet not at all when the moment is broken up by a man walking into the glasshouse and towards them.

"Hello, can I help...oh ! Persephone ! Long time no see !" 

  
  


…

The man proposes himself to give them a tour, for old times' sake. He also reveals that he and his friends have watched the news of his latest shenanigans with great delight. 

"We'd given up on you, honestly, thought you'd become a complete square, but there's still some rebel in you, eh ?" 

Lucas laughs, a little awkwardly. 

They follow him through a maze of corridors and cultivation glass houses, with trays of plants separated by plastic sheets, some growing in the dark and some under their designated little floating lights, and plants everywhere. The growing energy is so thick around him, it almost gives him a headache. 

Finally, they arrive at a circular room, in the center of which three enormous bulb shaped flowers are growing, the one in the middle taller than a human. And they are all gently glowing from within, a pulsating light yellow green for the younger ones and orange tending to pink for the one closest to maturity. Lucas takes a step closer. There is something so...tender about their energy. 

"Wow." 

"Healing pods." The man explains. "We finally figured it out, the core workings, right now we just need a little push to give them enough power to heal a person. Wanna see if you can help?"

This is amazing, Lucas thinks. He's heard rumors, but…

"Of course !" 

"This is going to be so helpful with the Asclepion so overwhelmed." Eliott says. 

The man shrugs. "Eh...no, sadly, those will have to stay in the Underground. The Office of the Fates would destroy them if they knew they existed. They don't like people to rely on their own magic, you know, instead of that of the gods." 

There is a moment of awkward silence. Lucas can see Eliott is shocked. In that moment, he can't help but realize how his own struggle is not as singular as he always felt it was. The Fates just want to control everything, not just him. And for a moment he wonders...what if he threw his weight as a god behind initiatives like these instead of only rebelling by earning a shit ton of money ? There was a time he used to care about the public good, and then...something happened, he's not sure what, but everything got so...it was only ever about the race, like an endless windrush tunnel, and the light at the other end he convinced himself was freedom but could very well have been the reflection of his own headlights against a wall of steel he would have crashed into eventually. If not for this...derailing of his life.

Another person walks into the room, with a purple cape and sigils painted on their face and chest in fluorescent paint. Their eyes are entirely dark, and their hair long and flowing. They wear rows upon rows of bead necklaces made of wood, seeds, clear stones, glittering in the dark. 

A botanical magician. Lucas feels a sense of elation - he's always loved working with them, because their magic always felt kin to his own, but also free of any outside influence. 

The magician smiles. "It's nice to see you come back, Persephone. Free spirits are always welcome here. I have worked with you before, with some of my brethren. Will you weave with us once more ?"

Lucas nods, and extends his hands. The magician draws a sigil with luminescent pollen on both his palms, glowing briefly before disappearing into his skin. Then they turn towards Eliott, eyelashes shimmering in the dark.

"You have vibrant energy, stranger. Will you join ?" 

"I, uh. I have death powers. I don't think that's a good idea."

"Decay is a natural part of life, and death gives it its meaning, as the root of fertility."

"I, uh. Thank you for your offer, but I have to keep my strength up to watch Lucas' back. We do have… issues with ghosts."

"As you wish." The magician relents. Lucas is a bit disappointed, he would have loved for Eliott to be a part of this, but he doesn't want to push him into something he's clearly uncomfortable with. 

  
  


The magician gets closer to the plant and raises their hands, and then starts humming softly, and Lucas feels the energy tide slowly rise around them from all the life in the greenhouse. It's not a flashy energy, it's subtle, progressive, like a circuit - all the plants here are set up to give energy to each other, in a complex ecosystem of balanced energies that can be tapped into without disturbing the whole. It's amazing, and it makes Lucas wish he had such a grasp on his power - when he uses magic it tends to be an uncoordinated rush, willful and brutal, and this is…beautiful. 

He sees the tip of his fingers light up as the magician's do, and feels the energy slowly go like a wave between them, back and forth, and he feels soothed. The magician waves it around the healing pods with song and intention, like a cocoon, and Lucas feels the bulb open its energy towards them, and it's almost as if there was  _ intelligence _ there, and it floors him. Suddenly all the plants around them are humming, and it's not just him, Eliott can hear it too from the wonder on his face. 

The magician's energy nudges towards him, delicately, and Lucas understands it's his turn to contribute, so he tries and reach into his  _ godly heart. _

Maybe he is still hungover from the destruction of Zeus' properties. His powers feel...so far away, and separated from his sensitivity like a fog. 

He frowns, and pulls harder. This used to be easy. He can't look like a fool, not in front of Eliott, not now that he has a chance to actually do something creative, something positive. 

He finally feels something come up, like a spring in the desert an unsteady rush, and sends it towards the meshed web of energy around the plant to give it a boost but just as it about to hit, the magician brutally yanks the plug on his connection and the net fades to nothing. 

He gasps. "What…"

"I'm sorry." The magician says softly. "But there is something about your magic...very dark and unstable. Not healing. It would have hurt the plants."

Fuck. 

"I think I'm cursed." He says.

"It's not a curse. It's the stock market."

Lucas laughs. But the magician seems serious.

"You have tied your energy into it. It brought you success, but it is also draining your power. It is a force based on illusion, and therefore it has a magic of its own, but the way it rules the life of men for arbitrary reasons and dynamics of domination is not an energy of positive growth. We can't use it, I am sorry."

Lucas scoffs. That's ridiculous. He is about to open his mouth but is stopped by Eliott' arm on his own. 

"Thank you for the opportunity. I am sorry we couldn't be of more help. I wish you a lot of success with this wonderful work." Eliott says before he can say anything.

  
  


The magician bows their head gracefully. 

  
  


Lucas swallows. He feels so silly all of a sudden, and out of his depth, like a kid playing at being a grown up. A fake, cardboard deity, only good at playing games. 

The sensation follows as they exit the greenhouses. 

"Those magicians can be such woo-woo types, I swear, all that peace and light bullshit," he says. The truth is, he's embarrassed. Like he's come up short, unworthy of the beauty of that place he was showing off as part of his territory.

Thankfully, Eliott doesn't dwell.

"That was beautiful," he smiles. "Best date of my life so far. Now, what's next ?" 

  
  


…

Lucas takes Eliott to other places he used to love - a potions factory, full of bubbling vats of strange foamy liquids ; an arena where people come to show off their magic powers, duelling with each other or simply creating amazing shows of light and other elements for the crowd ; and a temple where people come to pray to forgotten gods. It is said that the Fates sometimes banish lesser, unworthy gods from the Pantheon, striking their names from the records and condemning them to oblivion. But people here still remember, carry with them forbidden memories of chosen ancestors and hidden family worship. And sometimes they just need something they can’t find anywhere else, and they reach out blindly, towards something they can’t see.

The place is built like a maze, smelling of incense and crumbling humid stone ; walls full of little nooks where people can leave little tokens of their appreciation, keepsakes, mementos, tributes. He used to wander there when he felt melancholic, fantasizing about what it must be like to be chosen as the reincarnation of a forgotten god ; nobody to explain to you what is happening, or control your life, or guide you. The strange freedom and loneliness of it. 

As he walks through those haunted corridors, though, an idea strikes him. What if Eliott is one of those forgotten gods ? It would explain his power. A minor god linked to death, maybe, but much kinder and forgiving than Hades ; a guide, standing on the doorstep to welcome the dead into the afterlife. It would be a sweet gift, to see that face before moving on, Lucas thinks. It’s an alluring idea, maybe because it would make Eliott somewhat his equal - but he lets go of it. He would have felt it, with how close they’ve been. And besides, if anything, this place shows that humans can be extraordinarily powerful all on their own. 

But he can’t help but notice how, ever since this morning, people have been  _ looking _ at Eliott. And not in a hostile way, no ; they’re smiling, welcoming, warm, going out of their way to give him space. The waitress came up with their orders immediately either, he thinks, and the lady of the boarding house, too, was unnaturally kind to him. The magician praising his energy so warmly. It’s all...strange. 

Is he jealous ? He’s used to being treated as the most important person in the room. And...it’s unsettling not to be. But he hates the idea that he’s come to expect it - that makes him an entitled, pompous asshole. And it’s strangely freeing to be able to walk through the streets unnoticed, without a schedule hanging over his head to tell him what to do every single minute of everyday. 

Parts of him feels as if he is in freefall. But...not in a bad way. 

  
  


In a way where he is falling  _ towards  _ something. Something exciting, and wholly new. 

  
  
  


…

  
  


They buy some  _ souvlakia _ in grilled pita bread sprinkled with fresh lemon juice, at a little corner shop, and eat as they walk. The evening lights have come on, burnt orange and violet lights, swirling lazily above their heads to indicate the arrival of twilight. 

  
  


“Thank you so much for this. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.” Eliott grins at him. He still has a little pollen on his face, and a trace of ash on his other cheek from when he leaned too close to the duellists lobbing balls of fire at each other in the arena. “It’s so cool to see people...having fun with magic, you know ?” 

  
  


“Yeah, it is.” Lucas responds.

  
  


"I sometimes wish I had cool powers like that."

  
  


"Really ? Come on, man. You made an army of zombies drop to the ground this morning. If your powers aren't cool, nobody's are."

Eliott laughs bashfully. "Ok then you know more like...fun. But it's okay. I wish I could shoot fireballs out of my palms for a minute and then I remember I can actually help people, you know. And that's worth everything. Even though it does me make me feel sad I can't...create anything."

What a sweetheart, gods.

Lucas sighs. "I can...create things, living things, or I could, but my powers...they're tricky. I used to be able to think hard and make flowers appear out of nowhere, but now...and I'm mostly fueled by anger or ambition, and…Yeah, I don't know. Maybe I should try to have fun again." 

"Aww," Eliott says, "how is that going to fit into the schedule ?"

"Fuck the schedule," Lucas grins. 

Eliott makes a falsely scandalized expression. "You  _ are _ a rebel. Lucas Lallemant, am I having a bad influence on you ?"

"Nah," he grins, "I've always been bad to the boooone." He turns his tone a little cavernous. 

  
  


Eliott laughs delightedly and raises his eyebrows. 

"See, I would have believed that the first time we met, but I know you now."

"Oh really ?"

Eliott licks his fingers clean. "Yeah. You're a big softie inside." 

Lucas wonders if he is going to bring up their cuddly morning with a strange sort of thrill. 

"Yeah ? How do you know that ?" 

Eliott grins mischievously. "Because I know you're not going to fire me after I do this."

And then he plucks the remainder of Lucas's sandwich out of his hands and bites into it with gusto. 

Lucas stares at him, mouth open.

Eliott finishes the food and laughs at him. "So ? Am I right ? Or are you going to fire me anyway ?" 

"You fucking…" 

"I mean, you're the big boss, no ?" Eliott continues with a glint in his eye. "Don't you want to punish me ?"

Lucas can't help but stare at him. Playful Eliott is something new, and so lovely. He looks so free in the glow of the magical twilight, as if he too had let go of a weight on his shoulders. 

He's so beautiful. 

But goddamn it. That doesn't mean Lucas is going to let him have the last word. 

"No," he says in a deliberately pretentious tone, "you haven't earned that yet." 

Eliott laughs delightedly and bumps into his shoulder slightly with his own.

"Gonna have to keep trying, then."

  
  
  


Goddammit, what has he started.

  
  


...

Thankfully or not, they've finally reached the entrance to the last spot he wants to take Eliott.  It's marked by an old wooden stand next to a small canal of very dark water that disappears into a tunnel. 

"That's where we're going." Lucas points out.

"You know, my mother warned me about strange men who try to take me into dark tunnels." Eliott says. 

Lucas laughs. "Yeah but we already did that this morning, didn't we ?"

"That's different. This morning, we had a mission. But now...now you could just be leading me astray." 

"Well, true. But if I'm taking you to your doom then it's mine, too. If anything, the past few days have shown I'm hopeless without you." Lucas says, keeping his tone as casual as he can. This is so bloody delightful, and they've been sort of flirting like this all day, in this offhand and relaxed manner that could almost pass for camaraderie. He's never...he doesn't know what to do with this. All he knows is that he loves it.

Eliott sighs. "I do love feeling needed. Alright, one last adventure for today."

"It's my favorite part of this place," Lucas says softly. "I hope you're going to like it." 

He grabs Eliott's hand, entwining their fingers as they approach the booth behind which an old man is sitting.

"My boyfriend and I would like to rent a boat," he says, not really knowing why he is continuing with their silly charade for the benefice of this man, who looks like he has been sitting here all his life with his pale skin and glassy eyes. 

  
  


"The price is the name you plan to give your first born child," the man says in a creaky voice.

Gods, witches. Why can't they just be normal and ask for money like everybody else. Lucas can remember having to answer an inane question about his first pet the last time he was here.  He's puzzled. He's never even thought about having children, to be honest. 

"Melinoe." Eliott says, out of nowhere. What ? 

The old man nods pensively. 

"That's right." He sighs. "I can see it, the two of you will have many, many children, but not of the body. More than you can count."

Lucas resists the temptation to roll his eyes. Of course neither of them is going to impregnate the other, they're both men. It's soooo easy to pass for a prophet when you're old and talk in riddles.

"So, a boat ?" 

"Ah yes, yes, of course." 

The man waves his hand, and seemingly out of thin air a small vessel appears on the water next to them. Sculpted out of pale wood, in the graceful shape of a swan, with a little lantern at the prow. 

Wait, that wasn't the one he got last time either…

  
  


"Our romantic model. Very popular with young couples," the old man says, eyes squinty as if daring Lucas to reveal their lie. 

He feels annoyed all of a sudden and grabs Eliott's hand, pulling him forward and stepping into the boat, which must be held stable by some sort of magic as it barely sways under their combined weight. 

"Have a good trip, lovebirds." The man laughs, waves his hand again, and then the boat advances into the tunnel, moved by an invisible force. 

"This is awesome." Eliott says, grinning widely and Lucas feels a rush of affection at the way he takes everything in stride, from Lucas's ghosts to their wild escapade in this forbidden place, and now this. The city quickly disappears behind them, and they're in the dark, nothing visible beyond the little light circle of their boat.

"Melinoe, really, though ? Doesn't that mean nightmare or something ?" He asks as they both sit in the dark, sound of rushing water all around them, trying to distract himself from the memories it brings up. He believes in getting back on the bike after being hurt, he really does.

"It's the name of Persephone's daughter in mythology."

"Oh. That's clever." He feels stupid for not knowing his myths better, then frowns. "She's not incarnated though, is she ?" 

"She's a bringer of nightmares. She's...I think she's the type of God that fate doesn't reincarnate regularly. Only when it's angry at us." 

"Oh." That's a strange daughter for a flower goddess to have, he muses. But then again, she would be Hades' daughter, too. That's more on brand. But it's fucked up. Persephone is the one god entity who gets her nature completely shifted once she marries. If he ever ends up shackled to Hades, will his powers be twisted like that, too ? Enough to bring monstrous creatures into the world ? 

"Hey," Eliott whispers, "it's only a myth."

Lucas laughs bitterly. What a strange thing to say in a world such as this. 

"And myths are written by people, aren't they ?" Eliott continues. "They're never the whole truth. And the Fates control a lot of that too don't they ? I mean, look at this place…"

Lucas's mouth twists itself. "I hope you're right, I just, I don't want my...I have a complicated relationship with Persephone, with my powers, but they're still part of who I am. And the flowery shit, it's...I hate how the world treats it but ...I love it. I love making things grow. Like feeling that new life and nurturing it and...and I don't even know what will happen to that if I get married to Hades. I hate the idea that my powers might change because of him. And then there's the whole...having to live in the Underworld half the year. That's just so awful I can't even…" He shivers. "All that darkness and death and nothing living and…I don't want to be a part of that. I really don't." 

He stops himself when he sees the sad look on Eliott's face and realizes what he's saying. Fuck, people have excluded Eliott his whole life because his powers are associated with death, and here he is, his head so far up his own ass and he's doing exactly the same, what a fucking...

"I'm sorry, I…"

"It's okay," Eliott says with a sad smile. "You've been afraid of that your whole life. Of being forced to do things you don't want to, of being changed against your will. I don't blame you for not wanting anything to do with death. Hell, most people don't but for you it's especially justified."

"Your powers are  _ nothing _ like that, though." Lucas says vehemently. "You're not the darkness, you're what protects me from it." And he's not just saying this to make Eliott feel better, he really means it, and he wants Eliott to know that. "Your energy feels alive, it's different from mine, it's deeper, calmer, but it makes me feel safe. It's like...a big mountain. It's so powerful. There's nothing morbid about it." 

Eliott closes his eyes and when he opens them up again, they're almost...reverent.

"I do feel that darkness that you're talking about, though." He answers, voice low and raw. "When I do exorcisms, it's pulling at me. The Underworld, the real one, not a fun one like here. It's...it's the most awful thing I can think of. It's just...so stagnant, so...like if I felt into it I would be reduced to bone and dust immediately. It's completely sterile, and nothing ever changes there, nothing happens, just boredom and old pain trapped in a loop, and I just…" 

He is blinking tears away, and  _ gods _ . He's so sad and beautiful and he  _ gets _ it, he really does. "I've been afraid too," he continues, "of the way it's creeping up on me when I'm down, like it wants to eat me from the inside out, and I can't...most exorcists die on the job, you know. It wears them down and eventually, there's a ghost that's a little stronger than they are, and they're sucked down into the abyss with them." Fuck, that sounds like such a lonely and harsh life. "I always knew it would happen to me, but you...when I'm around you, I feel safe, too. I never told you this, but your energy…" He stops to wipe at his eyes and laughs. "I feel like being around you protects me from that darkness, too. And it's so beautiful, your power. So alive, so...vibrant and...like it's the first day in the world, the first day of my life, and we're free to start everything anew, and if we...if I take what I have in my heart and put it out there, it's going to be wonderful. It makes me want to draw, to paint, to create, to be happy." His voice turns into a whisper. "I would devote myself to you, if you let me. And I...I will do everything in my power to protect you. From that darkness. I swear." 

Lucas feels himself washed over by a gigantic wave of joy, and he grasps Eliott's hand. It's so good to feel someone having your back like that And...If he truly can keep Eliott from the darkness, what else can he do ? 

Fuck, he is not going to the land of the Dead before his time, and neither is Eliott, and he feels his power surge in assent to that. He feels powerful, and that's just the beginning, if he finally starts to take his power seriously. And that's what he is going to do from now on. There is so much he wants to do - so much he can do, against the Fates, against Zeus, against his stupid destiny. If Hades takes him under against his will, he'll fucking burst the crust of the Earth open to get back. He belongs in the world of the living. He's no wilting flower. And yes - 

"Let's protect each other." He whispers. "The darkness can't have us."

Eliott smiles at him, a true smile, beautiful and radiant, and together, they ride out of the tunnel and into the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awwwwwww wasn't that cute <3
> 
> add 'underground shenanigans' to the list of stuff i keep putting in my fics lmao. also who doesn't love a bit of 'oh no only one bed' and "we have to pretend to date for REASONS" those tropes are like the salt and pepper of fanfic
> 
> so yeah no Alexia yet but I just wanted them to have some fun together ^^ along with Lucas discovering that capitalism is bad vibes actually 
> 
> next time : a fake date, a dream, and a witch


	11. Chapter 10 - Eliott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a 'fake' date, a dream, and a witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow guys, ten chapters already, I can't believe it ^^ I hope you like this one, I loved writing it, we continue the trend of lots of fluff with little moments of angsting and piiiiiiiining
> 
> cw : explicit content (dream)

_ Chapter 10 - Eliott  _

  
  
  
  
  


"The darkness can't have us."

  
  
  


Fuck, fuck. He wants to believe Lucas so badly that for a moment, he does.

  
  
  


What if…

  
  


What if this time, it's the opposite ? What if it's Persephone that steals Hades and keeps him in the land of the living ? 

  
  


Gods, is that hope, blossoming in his chest ? 

  
  


Danger, a little voice says in his head, but his heart is too wild to listen, full of wayward flowers and the thrill of rebellion. 

Fuck, he can't get too excited about this but what if he proves himself to Lucas - what if their arrangement works, and he tells Lucas, just Lucas, who he is ? And they can keep hidden from the fates, and...Hades will be the one to change this time. Become a god of deep wells and roots and dark forests, of the silent places of the world above ground. 

  
  
  
  


_ Fuck.  _

  
  
  
  


He's given up on hope so long ago, and this is cruel.

  
  


But fuck it, for just a moment, yes, he wants to believe. 

He holds on to Lucas's hand as they exit the tunnel, and Eliott can't help but gasp as he sees where they've arrived. 

They're still in a tunnel - but a much bigger one. It's more of a cave, ceiling high and arched and covered in crystal stalagmites, and around them, a diffuse fog glows softly. Eliott's first thought is that the place is covered in glowing mushrooms, but then they start moving. And no - they're little humanoid creatures, skin luminescent and gauzy, with little hats that look like mushrooms and big round eyes, and they're everywhere, looking at them curiously. 

  
  


He looks back at Lucas, who smiles at him proudly, eyes still wet with tears from earlier. 

"Welcome to the River of Spirits." He says. 

This is...incredible. He has seen a few magical creatures, yes, but never so many, in an environment where they seem to thrive.He's never really seen spirits that weren't undead souls either. It's amazing. 

  
  
  


"Aren't we...disturbing them ?" 

Lucas smiles. "They have a lot of caves to live in, don't worry. They just come here because they're curious. We watch them, they watch us. It's like...a mutual zoo." He laughs, then sighs. "From what they've told me a lot of creatures fled to these caves when outwards displays of magic were banned in the city. Along with all the people who came here because they wanted to practice their magic in peace. Or didn't have a choice."

Eliott frowns. "I didn't know it was that bad. They tend to be weary of magic in the countryside but I'd thought that here, it would be different. And that club we met in…"

"The owner of the Styx has money and power and the right connections, that's how he keeps the place open. But yeah, the Office of the Fates made this edict like...I don't know, sixty years ago, that showing magic openly was an affront to the gods and an act of hubris and that New Athens should be the most pious place in the world. And so...everyone who was a threat to their power had to leave. And it's getting stricter and stricter all the time."

"No wonder they hate you. You're supposed to be an instrument of their power and you're flouting all the rules."

Lucas bites his lip. "Yeah, but you know, for a long time, I felt like...it was me against the world, against a society of hypocrites. But being here, it's reminded me of how much the system sucks for everyone." He laughs dismissively. "I know that sounds stupid, like how disconnected from reality can you get. But this god thing, it really gets to your head if you let it."

Eliott raises his eyebrows and smirks. "I've seen that." He keeps his tone dry but his voice gentle. "Better late than never." 

"And here I am trying to impress you with my fancy shit…" He grins. "Would you rather I turn myself into a beggar ?" 

Eliott looks at him insolently. "Maybe, but not for money." 

Lucas laughs, surprised. Blushes a little .

"Yeah ? For what then ?"

Eliott is starting to understand that it's easy to get Lucas all flustered if he looks at him a certain way. And he knows it's a power he should use sparingly and probably not at all, but it's so hard to resist when their banter keeps falling into flirty waters without them meaning to.

  
  
  


"I don't know, you tell me. What is it you want badly enough to beg for it ?" 

  
  
  


Lucas bites his lip. "You just like seeing me on my knees, don't you ?" 

  
  
  


Fuck. Yes, he does. 

  
  
  


_ That's my Persephone _ , a voice booms at the back of his skull.  _ Always a saucy minx. _

  
  
  


_ What the fuck, _ Eliott thinks back, thankfully managing not to jump in his seat and turning away before he betrays anything. 

  
  


Is Hades going to talk to him every time he and Lucas get closer ? Because that would be the most effective cockblocker he can ever think of, especially if he keeps talking like a horny sixty years old on a cruise vacation - like, "saucy minx" ? What ? Way to ruin the moment.

_ Is that not the hip lingo anymore ? Sorry,  _ the voice says again.  _ I have not been aware in quite a while and my previous incarnation was...stuck in his own time period, to say the least. _

"Or you know, I can do some fundraising for charity if that makes you think better of me…?" Lucas says, obviously finding Eliott's silence awkward. 

_ Shut the fuck up when I'm with him, _ Eliott throws mentally at Hades, before replying, a bit tartly, "If you want to do that, you should do it because it's a good thing to do and not to impress me." 

Lucas grins. "How about both ?"

_ Do not be such a cad, young man. We should always worship the ground Persephone walks on.  _

_ Fuck off _ , Eliott replies. He likes Lucas, he does, but he really doesn't think he needs any more worshipping, honestly. His ego is more than fine without that already.

Despite what he said earlier.  _ I would devote myself to you _ and all that crap. He doesn't really know what the fuck came over him, honestly - he just felt so fucking grateful all of a sudden, and it just happened. This whole day has been a dream - like a stolen day of someone else's life, someone made for love and happiness -

_ But you are made for love, little one. Hades and Persephone used to be prayed to for marital bliss.  _

What ? That's...not something he ever heard before.

Thankfully, or maybe not, that's when their boat reaches another cave, and it provides an excuse for distraction. 

The next cave is bigger and...Eliott's mouth drops as he sees. It's dark, but everywhere around them, strange shapes are floating in bright colors, reminding him of the fluorescent marks of the flowers in the greenhouse. Some look like snakes, some like people, some like nothing at all. 

Spirits. More of them, but those seem almost non corporeal. They seem peaceful by what he can tell. The atmosphere inside the cave is slightly restless, but not in a disturbing way. 

"Look," Lucas points and laughs. Eliott follows his finger and sees…

A spirit who has taken the shape of an exaggerated ghost drawing, with a sheet and cross eyes and a round mouth. 

"It's making a joke," Lucas grins.

This is fucking incredible. He's never met a spirit with a sense of humor. 

Then the spirit in question cannonballs into the water. 

It emerges, slowly, as a humanoid creature - a girl, with long pale blue hair and pointy teeth and three eyes, and comes closer to the boat and Eliott feels a shiver of unease. He can clearly see the fear on Lucas's face too - understandable. They've had bad experiences with spirits coming at them out of the water lately. 

He turns towards the creature, and she comes at him in particular, and extends a long, pale hand towards him - a hand with only four fingers he can see. He wonders what to do, he's not trained to deal with spirits outside of the undead. 

_ She needs your guidance, little one, _ Hades's voice says in his head. 

What ? 

But he extends a hand, suddenly curious, and the energy he senses coming from the creature is alien, but not malevolent. 

"Eliott, what are you doing?"

She touches her fingertips to his and then grins.

"ET phone home," she warbles in a distorted voice. 

Eliott laughs. Not only does this spirit have a sense of humor, she also knows pop culture. 

"Hello, ET," Eliott says. 

The creature's eyes widen and he can see that she has vertical membrane eyelids too, like a cat. Her irises swallow her pupils in bright colors - red, purple, blue, green, pink, yellow, like little nebulae. He doesn't feel dread anymore ; she's magnificent. 

"Can I help you with something?"

She laughs, an odd and scratchy sound.

"You help lotsssss of people, but maybe maybe maybe you should help yourself first."

Fuck, does she know he's Hades ?

She grabs his wrist. "I'm fine here. I made my choice... a long time ago. The Underworld is not a good place, anymore. No peace for me there, but the ones you send there do, isn't that...ssssstrange ?" Her last words echo around the cave, and her voice is a lot more human all of a sudden. 

_ She knows, _ Hades confirms. 

  
  


"I'm not done with the party," she hisses. "None of us are, none." 

  
  


Eliott looks into her eyes, and then he realizes - she is a spirit of the undead. She just has chosen to stay on earth of her own volition, and she has kept control, and...mutated into something beyond human.

She must be scared for Eliott to send her back.

  
  
  


Wow. 

  
  
  


"That's your choice. I won't take it from you."

  
  
  


She smiles at him. 

  
  
  


"Choice. Good. Bye bye, peace-bringer." She says, letting go of his wrist, and slipping back into the water. 

  
  


She then leaps back to the ceiling, taking the shape of a bright pink neon skull and crossbones, flickering as the boat takes them on to the next cave. 

  
  


"Wow, that was, uh….something." Lucas says, stress and amazement in his voice. "How did you know she wasn't...you know, sent to hurt us ?" 

Eluott shrugs. "An intuition." 

  
  


Lucas's expression softens. "You like to assume the best of people, don't you ?" 

  
  


"She was just afraid I would send her down. A lot of scary things are just afraid, really. It's all about knowing how to talk to them." He frowns at his own words - he knows this is true, but he rarely applies it in his work. And...he didn't know some ghosts could still thrive on earth. Instead of becoming vengeful horrors. He thinks about the man yesterday begging him for peace. This place is turning all his certitudes on his head. 

Teasing Lucas, however, is still as easy as ever. "Just like you." It's true. The more he gets to know him the more he figures Lucas is just like a hedgehog, prickly on the outside but cute as hell.

Lucas squints at him. "Are you implying I am some sort of weird creature you have tamed with your clever wiles ?" 

Eliott smiles at him. "Yes, I am."

Lucas huffs. "You're giving yourself way too much credit. I was perfectly fine before you came into my life. Totally tame and not weird at all." 

"Suuure." 

They continue bickering as the boat takes them to more caves. One filled with golden fog and trembling silhouettes, one with iridescent bubbles that squeaked instead of bursting when they touched them. His favorite has to be the one filled with giant flowers and luminescent little spirit butterflies, swirling around them in a cloud of blue wings.

He tries to take in as many details as he can. He wants to paint all this when he comes back, use that fine salary of his to buy some quality supplies and get back to it. 

"Thank you so much for this," He says to Lucas. "For most of my life magic has been this...dreary, cursed thing. Thank you for making it...well, magical for me again." 

Lucas looks at him, a butterfly perched on his nose matching the blue of his eyes. "I just felt you belonged here," he says.

  
  


Damn. He might be learning how to make Lucas blush but...it's reciprocal.

  
  


...

The next cave is more ordinary, river flanked with, strangely, dead trees. Who plants trees in a cave, without sunlight ? How did they ever grow here anyway? There are small balls of light floating above their heads but it doesn't seem enough.

Eliott can see a waterfall at the end. 

"Don't worry, it's magical water, it won't get us wet." Lucas says and then looks around mischievously. "I've always wanted to do this."

"Do what?"

He doesn't respond, closing his eyes instead.

Eliott feels energy swell around them - Lucas's energy, starting to feel so familiar, so wonderfully bright and rowdy and alive.

Around them, the trees burst into flowers, almost violently, like floral fireworks. Cherry blossom, apple blossom, peach, magnolias, and they're surrounded by a flurry of pink and white, petals raining down on them like snow. 

  
  


_ Holy shit. _

  
  
  


Eliott remains speechless for at least a minute. Lucas laughs. 

"Fuck, this is... incredible." 

  
  


"It's like it was planted there on purpose," Lucas says, his smile enigmatic. What does he mean ? Did he...plant those here ? In the hope of bringing….someone here, someone to impress ? Lucas, who always pretends to be the anti-romantic ? How long has this been here, how long has he been hoping...

  
  


For a few minutes they stay frozen in time, looking at each other, captivated, as the boat moves through the fairytale landscape.

Eliott doesn't have long to ponder it, however, before they reach the waterfall, and, contrary to what Lucas promised, getting a face full of cold river water... kind of kills the mood.

  
  


…

  
  
  


"I promise," Lucas says for the umpteenth time while they are walking back to their boarding house, both soaking wet. "That thing is totally defective, I had no idea that would happen."

  
  


"I didn't hear you scream though." He says ruefully, feeling the water slosh in his shoes.

  
  


"I believe in being cold blooded under pressure," Lucas says, and they both laugh at that.

  
  


"Well you're lucky it's not a real date, because that would so not have gotten you laid, honestly." The words flap out of his mouth, unbidden.  Oh crap, did he make it awkward ?

  
  


"Nah," Lucas says slyly, "I totally would have made it work. I mean, having to strip out of our clothes, the shivering, the emotions, getting each other warm? That would totally have done the trick. I would have promised to make it up to you, too." He pauses, smile curling at the corner. "Anyway you wanted."

  
  
  


Fuck, he could totally see that happen. He feels a thrill go through his stomach. He keeps himself from replying because he doesn't trust himself. 

  
  
  


"Was it a good fake date, though ?" Lucas asks and this time his tone is hesitant.

  
  
  


Eliott smiles at him. "The best I've ever had."

  
  
  


…

  
  


They reach their room and turns out...they do have to get out of their clothes and get warm and well...after Lucas's words, it does get a bit awkward. 

  
  


They take turns in the shower. Eliott checks his phone - no reception, not that anyone would send him messages anyway, but it's late.

Finally, when they both find themselves in bed, it gets even more awkward. Is the cuddling becoming a  _ thing _ now ? Or was it just a once or twice deal because Lucas was afraid ? He knows he is going to miss it terribly but there is no way in hell he is going to ask without Lucas giving him a reason to, and this time, he doesn't.

So they drift off to sleep, each on their own side of the bed.

  
  


…

  
  


Eliott's unconscious is a green, lush place - so different from his usual blurs of color. 

It's...a greenhouse, maybe, but this one is above ground. The air is very humid, water sprayed from above in tiny droplets, creating fog and little rainbows as the sun shines through.

He walks, feeling himself pulled at the navel by an invisible force. The paths are almost swallowed by the plants around them, and all the way up to the ceiling too, walls of thick greenery. And he feels...warm. Like all the life around him is...cradling him, protecting him. He feels at ease in a way he never quite does when he is awake, stress washed away. And the teeth of loneliness always gnawing at his heart, too. Gone.

Leaves rustle against his skin as he passes, almost like a caress, raising goosebumps along his arms and neck. And he hears whispers too, in a familiar voice.  _ Eliott, Eliott, Eliott _ \- his name. Welcoming him, drawing him in. 

  
  


He turns on a path, and there he is. Waiting for him. 

Lucas is barefooted, and bare-chested too, only wearing jeans hanging very low on his hips, hip bones peeking out. He doesn't say anything when he sees Eliott, just licks his lips.

He's breathtaking.

Eliott gets closer, his head woozy, faintly aware that this has to be a fantasy, motions slow and heavy, everything hazy.

He notices Lucas's skin is humid with condensation, little drops of water running along the curve of his cheekbone, the arch of his lips, his neck. 

He looks up to Eliott as they're finally standing face to face, blue eyes insolent, confronting. Then he brings his hand to Eliott's neck.

"Hello you," he whispers in Eliott's ear. "You should come to my dreams more often."

That doesn't make any sense, Eliott thinks, but then he is too lost in the sensation of Lucas's tongue tracing his skin, his fingers running down his back - making him realize that he, too, is bare chested. 

"Fuck, I want you so badly, I can't take it anymore," Dream-Lucas says as he wraps his arms and draws Eliott in closer, until their chests are touching. "It's fucking torture, it drives me insane." He must be mirroring Eliott's own feelings. "Every time I look at you I remember what it's like to have you inside me, and I feel so fucking empty and desperate, you have no idea…and those eyes, fuck, I swear you make me feel naked and like I'm...entirely at your mercy...because it's true…"

Lucas wouldn't talk like that in real life, but god, Eliott wants to indulge in the fantasy.

He grabs Lucas's hair, bringing him in.

"I'm the same." He whispers. "I'm the fucking same. I don't know why because we don't know each other that well and you're an asshole but I feel like you climbed under my skin ever since the first time and you never left and  _ gods _ ," he swears. "I can't pretend in a dream, so fuck it."

He lifts Lucas's face up with his hands and kisses him, full on, wild. His lips are wet and sweet and he responds even more vigorously, and they let the hunger consume them both and the next thing he knows, they're laying on a soft bed of moss, surrounded by blossoming flowers, and they're both naked. Touching  _ everywhere _ .

Their bodies are slippery under the constant spray, and Eliott feels as if they're becoming part of the lush life around them as they touch and kiss and lick each other. Lucas is so eager under him, bringing Eliott's hips towards himself until they move in undulating motion, pleasure rolling along their spines and yes, this must be a dream because he knows exactly what Lucas is feeling, and it's dizzying. Lucas is hard against him and he brings his hand down to encompass them both, rhythmic motions that bring debauched sounds forth from Lucas's mouth, and it feels so, so good - Lucas is life, new love, joy, hope, the promise of an endless spring - strong enough to chase away any darkness - 

  
  


But it's weird, he feels like his hand is stuck in fabric and under something and it's dry and wet at the same time - 

  
  


He pushes into the warm body he feels against his, but it's not enough, it's not enough - 

"Please," Lucas begs, "Please, I need you inside -" 

He tries to kiss Lucas again but his lips only meet hair and skin and the next time he blinks, the glasshouse is gone and he's awake.

  
  


He's laying in bed, dripping with sweat, plastered against Lucas's back, and his hard, swollen cock is pressed against the cleft of Lucas's ass, his back - 

And Lucas is grinding back against him, whimpering, needy, sending stars along Eliott's spine, and it feels so fucking good he's almost about to burst...

"Please, please…please Eliott, need you..." he begs, voice rough and naked in sleep.

He swears and jolts out of bed, getting stuck in the linens and stumbling over, finding himself rolling backwards and hitting the ground with a loud thump.

  
  


_ What the fuck.  _

  
  


Were they having the same dream ? No, that can't fucking…

  
  


Then Lucas's head, very awake, probably very aware of what just happened, hair an absolute mess, peeks over the edge of the bed.

  
  


"Hey, are you ok ?" 

  
  


Eliott's cheeks are on fire.

  
  


And as if things couldn't get any more embarrassing …

_ Yes, finally ! _ An enthusiastic voice starting to be very familiar booms into his head,  _ No more holding back ! Now to bed and let's fill our godly consort with the blessing of our throbbing rod and seed !  _

  
  


Oh gods. No. Just...no.

  
  


He doesn't respond, just flees to the bathroom and locks himself in, looking at the mirror sternly and pretending he is talking to Hades even though it's just his own face.

  
  


_ Stay out of my head _ , he says sternly.  _ Also, if you ever call my dick 'our throbbing rod' ever again I swear I will take a vow of chastity and enter a fucking convent.  _

  
  


_ And where would I go ? That's where I live, I am part of you.  _ Hades says as if it was obvious.  _ Now, why do you refuse to heed the mating call ? Chastity is not in your nature ! I can feel the fiery desire in your loins, why do you torment yourself so ? Your willing bride is in your bed, waiting to be ravished. Go and do your job ! Release your mighty prowess !  _

  
  


"Fuck," Eliott swears out loud. Not only does he have a godly commentator on his life now, he talks with purple prose straight out of a bad romance novel and he caught Eliott dry humping his boss while in some sort of wildly inappropriate wet dream - 

  
  


There is a soft knock on the door. "Hey are you okay ?" Lucas's voice comes through.

  
  


"These things happen, it's not the end of the world." He continues as Eliott gives him no answer. "We don't have to make it a big deal, right?" Eliott can hear the worry in his voice.

  
  


They don't have to, sure. But being able not to ? That's a whole other question.

So he turns the water on to delay dealing with it as much as he can.

  
  
  


…

  
  
  
  


Things remain awkward through breakfast and as they walk once again to Orpheus Street. 

Eliott blames himself. He shouldn't have made that joke yesterday about not getting laid, he knows it was the kind of teasing that crosses a line, that demands an answer, that turned the sweetness of their not-date into something else. 

He shouldn't be so flirty in general, he's leading Lucas on, it's a bad idea, and that bullshit about Hades staying above ground and being changed by Persephone and telling Lucas...gods, what was he thinking ? The voice that goes on in his head sounds a lot like his mother.

_ Be ready, Eliott. Be ready to leave everything behind, always. That's the only way to be strong. Attachments only hold you back.  _

That's what she would say, and it has been his mantra for the entirety of his life. Except the last few months.

  
  


He's been very busy focusing on Lucas's issues, but honestly...he is just better at hiding how messed up he is.

Lucas keeps throwing him silent looks, somewhere in the lost zone between tender, worried and awkward. Eliott does not know how to respond to those. At all.

They reach the witch's shop and finally, finally it is open and Eliott feels relief. If they had to stay one more day...it probably woul d have been a lot less fun than yesterday.

Lucas pushes the door open and Eliott follows. The smell of incense, bay leaf and spice floats to him. 

He looks around himself curiously. The outside of the shop wasn't visible from the street, hidden by a purple curtain, and from the inside it is dark, even by the standards of the Magic Underground.

The shop is ...sparse. He expected mahogany shelves and old books and flasks of potions and maybe a skull or two, but that's not what this place looks like. Instead, it looks almost like...a temple. On their left there is an alcove hewn in the rock, holding an obsidian vase filled with dark flowers - deep red and black roses, purple anemones, black tulips, deep indigo irises, thistles, thorny branches heavy with blackberries. The ground underneath their feet is half polished basalt, half lighter stone, separated by a line of gold. And on the walls there are tiers, filled with dripping candles. 

In the back of the shop, there is a desk of dark stone, behind which a woman is sitting. The witch they are looking for, presumably. 

She doesn't look like his image of a necromancer, to be honest. She's curvy, with pale skin, bright purple hair flowing down her shoulders, and an open face. She wears a simply cut dress of black lace, taken in at the waist, with a golden necklace. Again, not a lot of frills, which does indicate, in this area, at least to him, that she doesn't need showy artifacts or props to hide a lack of talent.

"Good morning, gentlemen." She simply states, leaving them to state their business. Her voice is soft, but there is an edge to it. 

"I was sent here by Archibald Piers," Eliott states. "He told me I could trust you. I need supplies for exorcism, and advice about a curse." 

The witch steps forward from behind her desk, and extends a hand towards Eliott. 

"Hello, friend of Archibald. I am Alexia." 

He isn't sure it's a good idea, but he grasps her hand - instead of shaking it, she just holds it firmly, and in that instant he just knows she is reading him.

"Alright." She says, releasing him. "Let's get to work." She goes back to her desk and grabs a pair of golden rimmed glasses similar to the one he had seen the healer use at the Asclepion, with several sets of amovible glasses. Somehow she knows without being prompted, she knows it's Lucas she has to look at. She observes him for an instant with purple and pink glasses, and then throws a black, glittery powder into his face without warning. Lucas takes a step back but it still reaches him and he splitters indignantly. And then they see something strange - the powder has touched him everywhere, except for….his heart. The circle of cloth on the left of his chest is completely untouched. 

"Give me your hand," the witch asks Lucas, who brisks at her demand before doing it.

"It's okay," she smirks, "I will give it back." 

  
  


She reads him like she did Eliott, then lets go of his hand, and sighs.

"I knew you would come to the Underground eventually, Persephone. I'm glad you came to me."

"What's that supposed to mean ? Why did you throw powder into my face ?"

"Because I thought it would be funny," she deadpans, then rolls her eyes. She has a sense of humor and she's not impressed by Lucas's _bow down peasants_ demeanour ? Eliott likes her already. "Curses are anchored to a part of the body that the curse maker considers weak, usually. They will create an effigy of the body part, fill it with some of the target's DNA, hair or nail clippings or that sort of thing, and then use it in spells as a symbol for the whole person. I needed to know which one." She explains.

  
  


Yikes.

  
  


"So I am cursed ?" 

  
  


"Yes, you are. You're lucky your boyfriend over there knew to go to me, because that thing is one of the nastiest pieces of work I have ever seen. There are a lot of incompetent hacks down here, and they would have made it even worse."

"He's not my boyfriend," Lucas says. She rolls her eyes again. Eliott understands the urge.

  
  


"Yeah, your exorcist you're banging, whatever."

  
  


"I am not banging him," Lucas says indignantly. "I don't bang my employees." 

"Whoops, my bad," she smirks. "I'm a bit of a seer too, sometimes the timeline gets a bit mixed up. Your exorcist you will end up banging then."

"If you're a seer, how come you didn't know we would be coming to see you and not someone else ?" Lucas says doggedly. 

"Honey, I don't need to be a seer to get all that sexual tension that walked into the room with you and that it needs to go somewhere. Although," she pivots towards Eliott, "you could channel in into some super powerful magic if you wanna keep doing the repression thing for a while."

Fuck, how the hell did they end up talking about this? He is not liking this anymore.

"So, the curse," Eliott says. 

"Ah, yes. Well, for someone to curse a god...like that amount of power it needs...you're either completely insane...or another god." 

Fuck. Of course. 

He turns towards Lucas. 

"Zeus ?"

"That fucker doesn't know how to do magic." Lucas. "It's not him. Unless he got another god to do it for him…" He turns to Alexia. "How do we break it ?" 

"You need to find the effigy of your heart they made, and destroy it ritually." 

She walks to her desk and gets out a sheet of paper and an old fashioned fountain pen, and starts scratching away. "I'm going to give you the ritual you need. To find the curse heart...it's connected to you. So...you need to tune into your power and let it guide you. Through...well, your heart, I guess. You're a god, so you should be able to do that, yourself."

"Wait...that's it ?"

"Well, yes and no. You might still attract ghosts after that. Because….you know there has been an imbalance, you must know why. The Underworld...it's not being taken care of, the dead are scared and they have no one to guide them so they stay here. But at least if you break the curse, then they won't be as insistent to kill you. Whoever cursed you is using this imbalance to make everything worse. Taking this errant energy that flows to you and making it into an avalanche. "

Lucas exhales, and nods, determination clear on his face. Eliott understands why he is relieved. Having something practical to do. But he can't help but be invaded by dread at the idea of the Underworld being in such a bad state that the undead won't go to it. And that is directly his fault, and now how many people must be impacted by it? 

She puts whatever she was writing in an envelope and gives it to Eliott.

"I don't have to tell you that once you find where the cursed object is, you might find yourself in a fight. So I would advise bringing allies."

Lucas nods. 

"Exorcist, come with me. I'll get you the supplies you need, and you can show me your preferences." Eliott follows her to the back of the shop, behind the heavy dark curtain beyond her desk. 

Here are rows and rows of little bottles and boxes containing all sorts of ingredients. She grabs a basket and starts filling it - Eliott sees a feather, a bottle of ink, something that looks like a piece of bone, and bundles of herbs. 

"There you go," she says, giving him the basket. "And now, this," she adds, and puts an old metal key in his hand, and everything goes dark.

  
  


…

  
  


He blinks. Cold wind gushes into his face, and he smells stone, silt, deep earth. 

  
  


He is in a tunnel, more precisely : at the intersection of three tunnels. Each one holds a burning flame, suspended in the middle of the air. The witch, Alexia, is standing in front of him with a strange expression. 

  
  


He turns around, fear flashing through his heart.

  
  


“What the fuck is this ? Where is Lucas ?” 

  
  


“Don't worry. I am not a threat. Your... Lucas is safe in my shop. This place is outside the bounds of time ; when we return, barely a second will have passed in his eyes. I just needed to talk to you in private, Aidoneus.”  She takes a deep breath. “Do you know who I am ?” 

  
  


He frowns, then looks at her again ? Is this a trick question ?

  
  


But then, it’s as if a veil is falling away from her face, and he can see, flickering, on both sides of her face, two other impressions of her, with wild dark hair and eyes like black wells. He feels the energy that is coming from her - strange, instable and yet driven, worrying and exciting at the same time, the energy of secrets, possibilities, secret pacts and midnight flights. And too powerful to be mistaken for anything else than...

  
  


Holy shit. 

  
  


“Hecate,” he says. 

  
  


The other missing godly incarnation.

  
  
  


She nods slowly. “Goddess of witchcraft, change, crossroads, and....hidden things.” She replies. 

  
  
  


Holy fuck. 

  
  
  


Hidden things ? 

  
  


She looks at him pointedly. 

  
  


What did she call him ? Aidoneus. It comes back to him, a fraction too late. An old, traditional name for Hades, meaning, _ the hidden one. _

  
  


Fuck. His stomach twists in sudden fear, ugly and screeching. He is so screwed.

  
  


“You know who I am.” 

  
  


She nods gravely. 

  
  


“I expected Persephone to walk into my shop, but not you. He doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t he ?” 

  
  


Stress claws at his throat. This...he’s been running from this for his entire life. Someone discovering who he is. He looks around. He doesn't know which way to run, this time.

He shakes his head. “He can’t...he can’t know. He would hate me, send me away. I need...I need to protect him. The curse...Please don’t tell him.” 

She looks at him sadly. “It is not in my business to reveal other people’s secrets. That would be hypocritical, too, as I am hiding for my own reasons.”

  
  


Relief washes over him.

“I wasn’t sure it was you at first.” She continues. “I just sensed...this incredible negative space walking into my shop. Like the outline around something that isn’t there but should, you know what I mean ?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Well...it makes sense neither of you would notice, since you are part of it. There is an energy that binds the two of you already, despite your secret."

Fuck. Eliott feels sick. "I didn't mean to…" Bind Lucas into something without him even knowing...

"It's not your fault. That bond has always been there, between your godly selves. It exists just because you are in the same room. And...I've seen the way you look at him, you know. That's hard to mistake for something else."

Eliott takes a deep breath. "It's not like that. We...we barely know each other. Last month, I fucking hated him."

"I'm not saying you are mandated to fall in love. I mean there is energy, and a shit ton of it. What you do with it is your own issue. But whatever it is you do feel for each other...know it will be amplified tenfold."

Eliott wants to sink to his knees.

"I don't know what to do." He confesses. If anyone can hear him out, it's her. Because she is running, too. If she can't understand then who can ? "I can't take on the Hades mantle. I'm too weak. And my mother...she sacrificed herself to keep me hidden. I can't make that be in vain. I can't."

Hecate takes a deep sigh. "Whatever your reasons are for hiding, I will not judge. I am hiding simply because it does not suit me to fit into the system we are expected to fit into, and I have better things to do with my time than do the Fates' bidding," she explains with fire in her voice. "But...my role gives me an advantage. I work best in the shadows, I am expected to be cagey and elusive. Seasons or the peace of the dead don't depend on me. You...don't have that chance. Even though our powers and our domains have a kinship...your role is very, very public."

"I don't know what to do. I know that the ghost shit is partly my fault, and I...I can't leave Lucas, Persephone, to deal alone with this, but I can't tell him either because he's made it clear he doesn't want anything to do with Hades, and he is so stubborn and he doesn't give a shit about his own well being and I ...I can't let him push me out. He needs me. And I feel so fucking good around him but I hate the idea that it's just because of our divine parts, and I hate myself for deceiving him, and I just can't…" the words rush out of his mouth after weeks and weeks and months and years of having nobody to talk to, at all, and he knows it's stupid to talk to a stranger, but fuck…

There is a silence in which he curses himself for throwing all his issues in her face so gracelessly. But then...

  
  


"I empathize. And that's not something I say a lot to my clients because generally, well. They're a lot more dead." She smiles, clearly trying to bring some levity into the conversation.

  
  


He frowns. "Don't the living do the hiring ?"

  
  


"A lot of people hire me to reanimate them after their death so they can deal with unfinished business." She smirks. "If you were in your proper godly mind, you would be very mad at me. Tricking death and all that."

“I’m not really in a position to get mad at people, honestly.”

She nods. “You need allies.” It’s a matter of fact statement. “Well, you’re in luck, I have some interest in helping you. You...are at the beginning of a journey. There are elements of godly incarnation, that, yes, are...demanding. This does change us deeply. There will be parts of being Hades...you won’t be able to outrun your whole life. I’m sorry to say that. But. That doesn’t mean that you have to just fit yourself in the boxes the Fates have made for you. Figuring out what the demands of your nature are and what parts are the unnecessary, damaging dross made up to keep you in place, well, that’s your work. I’m afraid a lot of what you...of what we all have been taught about the gods and the Fates has been...Tampered with.”

  
  


“What do you mean ?” He spent so long running from destiny, to be told it could not even be a thing is...destabilizing.

“The Fates are human, Eliott. Or...They used to be, long ago. They were people, chosen like us, reincarnations. But with these particular three Fates...well, the reincarnations stopped. Why do you think that is ?” 

“I…” 

  
  


“That was a rhetorical question. None of us know why, and this was centuries ago. They made sure to destroy any mentions of the event in historical records. They wanted us to believe they were eternal, like the god-kings of old. But, well…” She smirks. “I am very good at finding hidden things.” She swings the old rusted key, that has multiplied into several, around one of her fingers.

That’s...wow. But it makes sense. He’s always wanted the myths to be...less set in stone that they were often explained to be. It’s what he said to Lucas, earlier, more as a prayer than something he actually believed, but…

“That’s one of the reasons I disappeared, you know.” She continues. “I got chosen one year after you. I thought it was pretty cool that you just vanished, giving the Fates the finger. I knew that they would ask me to find you and I didn’t want to. I thought if he fucked off, then why can’t I ? And then my then-girlfriend introduced me to this place, and well...it was love at first place. The people here...they have a very long tradition of seeing through that _ destiny _ bullshit. They have kept records of things that everyone else has forgotten.”

  
  
  


“You must be pretty disappointed meeting me, then.” He grimaces. He’s not some sort of freedom fighter or rebel ; he’s just a coward. 

  
  


“No. I mean, surprised, yes. Seeing you hidden at the side of your Persephone without ever being able to touch him or tell him the truth...that’s one hell of a masochist tango, dude. But at least you’re doing something. Helping people. Making your own path.” 

  
  


He remembers the words of the spirit girl in the cave.  _ You should help yourself first.  _

  
  


“I don’t know what to do. I know this is going to blow up in my face at some point, but I…”

  
  


“I can’t tell you what to do. I am a seer, sometimes, but I don’t see the future, I see possibilities. It all depends on your choices. All I know is that it’s very important you figure this shit out for yourself. Persephone, too. I’m just here to tell you that you’re not as alone as you think you are. Neither of you. And you have more options than you think.” 

  
  


He rubs his hands over his face. 

  
  


“It’s a lot.” 

  
  


“Yeah, but it’s yours to deal with.” She sighs, and takes something from her pocket. It’s...another necklace, made of very small beads in dark purple. “This will protect you and keep you hidden for as long as you want to. Your shield is like nothing I have ever seen before, but it’s cracking, too. The curse aimed at Lucas is affecting you as well.” She shows him a tiny sand timer hanging from the end of the necklace. “Turn this around nine times, and it will create a bubble around the both of you that will protect you for one day and one night. But use with caution. Every time, it will cost you one year of your life.”

  
  


Shit, that’s some serious magic. But it could come in handy.

  
  


“Thank you. For this, and for...listening. Not judging, I guess.” 

  
  


“All our actions have ripples. I’m merely doing my part so you can do yours.” She puts the necklace around his head. “Ask yourself, Eliott. Are you truly weak, or do you simply not fit in the box ?” 

  
  


Then she presses a hand on his shoulder, and they’re back in the shop. 

  
  


…

  
  
  


They go back to the entrance. Lucas is waiting and Hecate - Alexia must be right, no time seems to have passed for him at all ; he’s not even impatient. 

“Thank you.” Lucas says. “How much do we owe you ?” 

  
  


“I’m not taking payment in cash.” She says. Lucas rolls his eyes. 

She smiles at him. “You have so much of it, what value would it have for you ? No, what I want is a favor. From the both of you. There will be a time when I will need to speak to each of you, and you will not want to, but the favor is promising you will listen regardless.”

Lucas narrows his eyes. “What do you know about the future, exactly ?” 

She doesn't answer, just stares Lucas down with a sphinx-like face.

“I promise,” Eliott says hastily. It’s probably for the best that Lucas doesn’t ask too many questions. 

“Yeah, ok, me too.” Lucas says, reluctantly. 

  
  


They ask her for the address of a good magical tattooist. Before they leave, Alexia gives Eliott a little black card with her number on it and makes him promise to call if he gets into trouble. 

  
  


“She was flirting with you.” Lucas scoffs when they get out. “Did she try to make a move when you were in the back of the shop ? The fucking gall.”

  
  


“She wasn’t ! She was just being nice.” Eliott laughs. “Wait, are you jealous ?” 

  
  
  


“No. I’m just pointing out, very unprofessional.” 

  
  
  


“Sure. And we’re the height of professionalism.” 

  
  
  


"That's different."

  
  
  


Eliott smiles, against his best judgment. He doesn't want to acknowledge it. It's awkward and it's, quite frankly, fucking terrifying. It's throwing him right into the thick of what he's been avoiding his entire life.

But still. 

  
  


It is.

  
  


And if Alexia is right, if he can't outrun this forever...is there anything better to build his godhood on ?

  
  


…

  
  


They get Lucas his tattoos - on his biceps, and it looks great, and Eliott is pretty sure Lucas uses the opportunity to show off his muscles, and he catches himself watching more than he wants to. 

They get all their stuff from the boarding house. And eventually, it's time to go back to the surface. 

He's going to miss this place, he thinks, as they throw a last glance towards the city center before walking back into the tunnels. He felt so...free in here. And like Lucas was different, too. Maybe they can come back at some point, when their issues are settled.

  
  


…

  
  


The exit they emerge out of is not the one they entered through. This one is situated behind an abandoned skating park that seems strongly of urine.  The afternoon is already well underway, but the light of the sun still hurts his eyes. He'd gotten used to the dim light of the Underground. 

They take the subway and Eliott can't help but laugh when he sees Lucas squeezed between a massive man insulting someone on his phone and a girl moving several suitcases and a kitten in a travel cage, but he is taking it in stride. 

He's changed, Eliott muses. He seems like a different person. It's strange what a few days can do. 

He hopes it lasts. 

They go to a completely different part of the city, a residential, lower middle-class borough, messy and lively. Lucas introduces them to another apartment, in a seventies style building with strange concrete outcroppings. The inside is a lot more luxurious, although it seems to have been decorated by someone on drugs, with psychedelic wallpaper and bubbly furniture. 

"I think this is the place where they're last likely to come looking for us," he laughs. "Bought it from some weirdo film producer and never changed the official name on the lease when he died. Don't worry, it was thoroughly cleaned. I don't have an extra apartment for you though, sorry. Just a guest room. So we might have to be roommates." 

"That's fine," Eliott grins, looking around himself in fascination. "I'm already used to how annoying you are."

Lucas rolls his eyes, knowing better than to reply apparently, and then shows him around. The bathroom is tiled in violent purple, with a shower cabin that looks like an iridescent pod from a bad sci-fi movie, and the living room has a "social pit" including shabby orange carpet and a rotating low table.

"I meant to renovate it when I got it but I never got around to it and now I'm kind of attached to how fascinatingly horrible it is."

  
  


"It's like a time capsule." Eliott laughs. "Let me guess, your bedroom has a mirror on the ceiling." 

Lucas winces. "Yeah. Kinda creepy in the middle of the night though." 

Eliott laughs. "What, you don't like looking at yourself ? Color me surprised."

Lucas pushes at his shoulder. 

"Don't slut-shame me."

  
  


"Yeah, you're the one bringing sex into it dude. I was just saying, in general." 

"Of course you were."

…

  
  


They can't use fancy delivery services lest they attract attention to themselves, so they actually have to shop for groceries. Lucas makes them fresh lemonade with lime and raspberries, and they sit on the private balcony among the lush flowers, in folding chairs. 

It's nice.

Lucas calls Jeremy, and another of his underlings, and then Imane. His voice is short and terse as he responds, and then he explains the situation to Eliott. He didn't use to do that, but he doesn't talk to Eliott like an employee anymore. 

He talks as if they're partners.

  
  


"It's shit. The special unit that is attached to the Office of the Fates, you know, the God-cops, they're looking for me, they want to question me etc." 

Eliott feels a rush of fear at the mention of those. His mother had warned him to avoid them at any cost, that they were trained in detecting magical deceptions. 

"Business is not going well either." He sighs. "People are worried. Stocks are down. The press is going haywire with rumors. Some of my investors and partners have pulled out of deals because they're worried I might be a liability." He finishes his glass and throws his head back. "Fuck, that magician might have been right when he said that shit was dark magic. They want me to come in and save the day, you know. But I'm fucking tired."

"We need to figure out this curse thing."

"Yeah. That's why I told Moira, my second in command, she would be running things for a while."

"Wow. Lucas Lallemant, are you delegating control ?" 

He sighs, responds earnestly. "I guess I am. I'm just...tired of focusing on shit that doesn't really matter." He rubs at his elbow. "Imane is organising a protest against the closure of her parent's mosque in two weeks. She asked me to come and to bring as many of my god friends as possible."

"Holy shit. That's going to be one hell of a political statement. Are you going to go ?"

"Yes. I don't know that I have any godly friends to bring, and I know this is going to be trouble. I'm just...tired of doing nothing while those bigots curse me and attack my friends and try to turn this city into some sort of religious dictatorship. Fuck. I’m just…”

“You know there’s still that law they want to pass...doing this could make everything worse. And the curse.” 

“I know. I know. But I’m tired of playing it safe. What else can we do, sit there and wait for them to come after us ? If we do this, it’s a way to show that we’re not just instruments and symbols they can parade around.”

He takes his phone again and sends a text. “I messaged Poseidon and asked him if he could get some...friendly gods together. Let’s see how that works.” 

Eliott can’t help but be worried. At the same time...he admires Lucas’s determination. He really does. 

“You  _ are _ a rebel, huh ?” 

Lucas shrugs. “Maybe I can do something a bit more useful than smashing a rich asshole’s house to bits with that.” 

“I don’t know, I feel that was a pretty good symbol though.”

  
  


…

  
  
  


The next morning, Lucas goes into work to give instructions and set up things so that they can run without his help for a while.

“I feel strange.” He confesses to Eliott as they walk out of the building. “I just gave Jeremy two weeks of paid leave. I’m going to feel helpless without him.” He bites his lip. 

“Well I’m not carrying your folders anymore,” Eliott quips. 

Lucas bats his lashes. “Really ? You’re going to let me shoulder all my burdens alone ?” 

What a drama queen. Eliott laughs. “That must be a very big folder problem you’re talking about, then.” 

“Very big. Enormous folder. Can’t even fit it in my suitcase.”

Eliott laughs. This is happening more and more often, now, that the conversation between them becomes completely stupid but somehow, with the right flirty tone and the thrilled looks Lucas throws him, it becomes a captivating conversation. 

“Alright, I’ll help you carry folders.” Lucas grins, very pleased to have gotten his way. Eliott is weak. In a good way. “So what next ?” 

“I need to connect to my ‘godly heart’ or something. And I know exactly the right place for that.”

  
  


…

  
  


The place is, unsurprisingly, a garden, surrounded by high iron gates that open on themselves as Lucas passes by. The place is misty with the spray of sprinklers, and they walk through an alley surrounded by massive rhododendrons blossoming in white, flowers catching the morning light. 

“This was supposed to be a public park. I worked on making it beautiful, years ago. But eventually the Office of the Fates declared it...unsafe, or something.” Eliott hears the sadness in his voice. 

“It is beautiful,” Eliott says, looking around in wonder. Lately this is what their life has been, Lucas showing him beautiful places, and he just...it's as if Lucas instinctively knows that he thrives on the beauty of life, that it feeds him, and that's just…

"Let's take a shortcut to the most beautiful part of the park," Lucas says, reaching to take Eliott's hand and then stopping himself. That's right ; they don't have the excuse of the fake date cover anymore. 

Damn, Eliott misses it. 

They arrive...at a glasshouse. Yet again.

  
  


Fuck. 

  
  


The place is familiar, uncomfortably familiar. Lush and overgrown plants, humid air, little rainbows in the sprays. Everything less exaggerated but the same exact white metal structure, the same little panels of glass. 

"I've seen this place before." Eliott says, voice raw. 

"It's been closed to the public for years," Lucas says.

Eliott stays silent, mind spinning.

"Did you see it in a dream ?" Lucas asks, voice breathy. 

Eliott looks at him, incredulously, and Lucas's breath catches, blush sitting high on his cheeks.

Did they share a dream ? Or maybe Eliott found his way into Lucas's dream, into a place he knew from memory - Dream Lucas had said  _ you should come to my dreams more often _ , didn't he, and he had dismissed it as nonsense, but…

How else to explain this ? 

And if they shared a dream, that  _ sort _ of dream...all of it…the things they'd said and done...well, they were almost real, weren't they ? 

He feels his face go red again as he remembers Lucas beneath him, so eager and lovely, but this time the real Lucas is staring at him and it's almost too much to bear. It's pure lust that is coursing between them now. There is nowhere to hide it anymore. 

Lucas takes one step towards him. 

For a moment, Eliott considers making their shared dream a reality. 

  
  


Then actual reality catches up with him. He can't do this.

  
  


He takes a step back. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I don't…"

Lucas blinks, shakes his head. "It's not your fault. Neither of us knew, right ? So it doesn't count."

Eliott nods shakily. Yeah...all that. Sure.

  
  


They walk out of the glass house, Eliott's heart beating fast, and a whole new layer of frustrated longing glazed over it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i am obsessed with greenhouses and what about it ? like, the aesthetic...cannot be beat.
> 
> let me know what you thought of this chapter guys, i am so curious <3 
> 
> next time : plot gets serious, again. a protest, a meeting, and some Scandal, oh my !


	12. Chapter 11 - Lucas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a sweet moment in the park, a meeting, and a protest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys ! sorry I wasn't able to post on Thursday. Life happened, and also, since I've run out of pre-written chapters and am now pretty much writing each chapter to publish it right away, it's possible that posting days may become more unpredictable in general, although my goal is still to upload twice a week. 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter ! it's very pining-y and plotty, as we are really getting closer and closer to the center of the story, and well, let's say, stuff HAPPENS in this one. 
> 
> also, a disclaimer : some of the events in this chapter very vaguely parallel stuff that’s happening now in the world. tbh, that wasn’t my intent, this was planned earlier and honestly, using real life ongoing struggles in fanfic is corny at best and downright offensive at worst, so that’s not what this is, even though, inevitably, it’s an influence. that said, if stories about rebellion against oppression inspire you in fiction, i hope you’re doing something about it in real life. now and always, black lives matter. 
> 
> cw : vague mentions and signs of domestic abuse, mention of eating disorder, religious intolerance 

_ Chapter 11 - Lucas _

  
  


Lucas takes them to his favorite place in the park - a little hill with a stream looping around the base they cross via a little wooden bridge. At the top, an old oak tree, brooding over a little gazebo in the style of a greek temple, surrounded by roses.  They sit down in the thick, soft grass. From there, they can see the top of the city skyscrapers peeking beyond the trees, and the dome of Apollo’s temple, too. But they’re still sheltered from the hubbub and the noise. The light filters through the branches, and the birds sing above them. 

Eliott gets his sketchbook out of his bag, and some pencils, and starts to draw. Lucas sits next to him, a little uphill, legs crossed, and takes a deep breath. 

  
  
  


Alright. Curse-hunting. 

  
  


Focusing is...hard. His heart is still beating a thousand miles an hour, after their little moment in the greenhouse. Lucas knows that it was a bad idea to take Eliott through there, especially since it was definitely not a shortcut. No. It was an excuse. Because...After that dream, so vivid and true, and the way Eliott had reacted while Lucas was definitely all ready to be embarrassed as hell himself...he had to know. What if...if, if they’d shared a dream, he wanted Eliott to know that it was okay. That Lucas was right there with him. That even though they’d promised to wait, there was nothing wrong with how _ into each other _ they were. 

And then it had turned out to be real and for a moment he really thought Eliott was going to jump his bones and honestly ? It would have made his day. His month. His entire year. 

Fuck. He really needs to get laid, he hasn’t had sex in...months, that’s definitely his longest drought in a very long time, but he knows it’s no use whatsoever. Even the idea of touching another guy right now disgusts him. Which is...alright, new. He’s never really considered himself particularly monogamous. He’s not as unsettled as he used to be by it, though. He’s...still frustrated, but a big part of him is really taking this in stride, even though he hadn’t had a lot of time to box lately. 

It could still happen, honestly. Eliott looks so beautiful there in the dappled light, touches of gold dancing across his lashes and nose, Lucas is pretty sure that...fuck, no. 

He wants to do this properly. Not be overruled by his instincts. In fact...he wants the whole thing. He doesn’t give a shit about Hades or the Fates or the public opinion. He knows Eliott isn’t repulsed or scared by his status. Once this is sorted, he’s going to give Eliott the biggest bonus in the history of bonuses, half his fortune if he has to, and then fire him.

And then he’s going to ask him out. He already has a few restaurant ideas. Unless...maybe that’s too cliché. Maybe he should cook a delicious picnic and take him stargaze or something. And then he’ll wait _ at least _ until the third date to take it any further. He wants to be a gentleman about this. Considering how their relationship started, Lucas wants to make sure that Eliott knows Lucas sees him as more than a pretty face and a big dick. He wants...he wants to get to know him outside of this professional context where they’re tied together by circumstance. 

Eliott’s lost in his drawing, but after a while, he probably senses Lucas’s eyes on him and gazes up. 

“How’s the godly connection going ? Can you feel anything yet ?”

Lucas blushes and looks away. “Yeah, uh. Getting there.” 

Fuck. He has to focus. They will never even get to those dates if he can’t find the cursed simile of his heart, or it will drag on for months, and then they won’t be able to go stargazing. Although, to be honest, fall dates are also lovely. Or so he thinks, he’s never been on one. Go to a harvest festival, maybe, carve some pumpkins, pile grapes under their feet, sit around a bonfire…All those coupley things he’s always found ridiculous but now...

Fuck. Focus. Yeah. Alright. 

  
  


Locating his heart when it’s thumping in his chest...not difficult. Getting it to calm down - connecting to what it represents...that’s a whole other ballpark. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Repeat. 

It’s easier, somehow, to slip into a meditative state, with Eliott at his side, than it was to try to do so alone in his salon. The soft scratch of pencil against paper, the softer sounds of his breathing, the simple feeling of presence, the sun and light breeze on his skin, the murmur of life all around him - it’s all so soothing and peaceful. 

Gradually, he becomes aware in a way he wasn’t before. A sharpness of perception - he can feel everything around him in crisp detail without even looking. He knows that there’s a butterfly three daisies left of them, that Eliott’s hair is getting swept into his face and his leg muscles are slightly cramped but his hand is moving fluidly, that there’s a bird nesting in the oak and three eggs in its nest, one about to crack open to release the birdling, that there is a colony of ants at the feet of the hill in a hollow trunk, that the other versant of the hill is full of marigolds, that there is a falcon circling for its next meal high overhead...it’s absolutely dizzying, and it’s extraordinary. Why has he separated himself from this for so long ? He remembers this from the beginning, sometimes, when he would walk through nature and feel so deeply at one with the universe, and it wasn’t some cheesy concept, no, he could feel all the little details, and it was - it still is breathtaking. 

He could stay hours like this, but he has an objective. And as he turns his perception within…

  
  


Pumping blood, muscles, oxygen in and out. Nervous impulses, digestive system, lungs filling and emptying...

  
  


He feels a weight on his heart. Something...Compressing it. 

  
  


But the sensation isn’t physical. It’s as if...ghostly chains wrapped around it, stopping him from really connecting. It's terrifying, like something has a hold on his most vital and vulnerable parts, like he is some sort of puppet. He tries finding some sort of a link, a tie, but...he can’t. And suddenly all he can feel is this horrible sensation, almost as if someone is holding his heart in his hand, and won’t let go, and he can’t breathe, and….

“Lucas !”

He opens his eyes. Eliott is right in front of him, hands on his shoulders, worried look on his face. 

“Are you ok ?”

  
  


Lucas blinks. The grasp on his heart has relented. As if it only came into play when he was trying to connect. 

  
  


Well, fuck.That’s going to make everything a lot more difficult. Shit. 

  
  


“I...I’m fine, I just...I got blocked. There’s something...around my heart. I don’t know. As if that curse thing was cast directly on me. Fuck.” He rubs his hand over his face. 

  
  


“Do you want me to call Alexia ?” 

  
  


“Maybe later. Maybe it’s just stress and I should try again later.” The truth, he’s not keen on explaining this to the witch. There was something about her...very intrusive and nosy. And her energy was weird, as if she was hiding something. He wishes he had a way to ask other gods. But this is not something he can just share. It could be used against him so easily. He doesn’t know which of them he can trust and who will rat him out to Zeus. If not all of them. 

He flops backward into the grass. Eliott follows, lying down next to him. He looks at the blue sky peeking through the leaves, and he feels so lost. 

“Fuck, I guess they knew what they were doing, huh. Maybe my heart is my weak point. I am kind of a heartless bastard, after all.”

“Or maybe you have too much of it and you’ve taken poor care of it,” Eliott says softly. “Maybe they just don’t know you and it was a stab in the dark.” 

Lucas laughs, but it comes out shivery. 

“I just need to find a different way to be a god. I just… I can’t fit inside the Fates’ box but I can’t...I can’t keep doing things the way I did. I don’t know if it’s the ghosts or the fucking stock market or whatever but I...Before you came I...wasn’t happy, I was just...fuck. It’s stupid. I have the power to do beautiful things and I was just sitting in rooms making money for myself I don’t need and even more money for people I actually hate. Like...What’s even the point ?” He laughs. “Early midlife crisis, huh.”

  
  


He turns his face towards Eliott, and Eliott follows suit. 

  
  


“I think we all need to reconsider what gods are.” Eliott answers, tentatively. “We are taught that...there’s people chosen and if they do the right thing, if they fulfill the right role in the right way and that’s it then, if we honor them, if we don’t question anything, we’ll be fine. But what if that’s not what it’s all about ? What if the purpose of gods becoming human is …them, us, being flawed and messy and...learning something new each time ? And you...the point of you is not being the right type of Persephone but it’s...by being Lucas and connecting to all those who have been like you before, you can...you have something wholly new to do with these powers. I mean, wouldn’t Persephone of all gods always keep growing ?”

  
  


That’s...that’s deeper than any theology he’s heard before. And...it’s such a lovely, hopeful view. That their human flaws actually have something to bring to the table of the gods ? He wishes he could come up with a thought so lovely and actually believe in it. 

  
  


Eliott looks at him, eyes smiling softly, face half hidden in the grass. A little playful, a little melancholic. So attentive. He really is the whole damn package, isn’t he.

  
  


_ Gods be damned, I’m in love.  _

  
  


The thought hits him like a freight train. Forget having a crush, being horny, or liking Eliott’s company. This...this is wholly different. And honestly it’s been for a while. He is suddenly astonished he didn’t see it sooner. But maybe he’s just a bit stupid when it comes to those things. It’s like the feeling is roaring through his entire body, suddenly, demanding to be acknowledged after so long in hiding.

“I…” his voice comes up rough and he turns back to the sky. “I like that way of thinking.” He pauses, then changes the subject, because he can’t show Eliott how troubled he is, not now, or he’s just going to roll on top of him and kiss him. 

“Eliott, what do you want to do when this is done ? Is being an exorcist really what you want to do with your life ?”

Eliott’s voice sombers. “I have to use my powers, otherwise bad things happen. That’s...that’s why my mother died. I…I didn’t...properly and she sacrificed herself to save me. I just...I have to do something with this, I owe it to her.”

Fuck. That’s...awful, to live with that weight. And...he can imagine. It's uncanny how similar their stories are in certain aspects.

“You told me that my mother wanted me to be happy, not stew in guilt. Don’t you think yours would want the same? ”

“I don’t know. She never really...I guess she did. But mostly she wanted me to stay hidden. Never really...stay too long, give people a reason to hate me. I…”

Gods. 

Lucas reaches across the grass and finds Eliott’s hand, and laces his fingers through his, ignoring the way it raises chills across his spine. 

“‘You don’t have to...you don’t have to run. Not this time. You’re not alone. I promise. I’ll help you, like you help me every day. If being an exorcist is what you want to do then I will support you, I’ll give you anything you need to get settled. And if you don’t...There has to be a way to drain the excess power. We can go back to that witch, we...we’ll figure it out. And if people want to hate you, they can go through me first. I'm used to dealing with fuckers and honestly...Fuck them.”

There is an instant of silence. Lucas doesn’t dare turn his head, all of a sudden. But then Eliott tightens his fingers against Lucas’s ever so slightly. 

  
  


“ I’ve always dreamed of being an artist. Painting, especially. The colors... Maybe I could start taking classes again. On the side. You know, just…”

“I think that’s a brilliant idea. You’re brilliant. You deserve…” Everything, he stops himself from saying. “You deserve to do something that makes you happy.”

“I’m doing that now,” Eliott whispers, and to that, well. Lucas really doesn’t know what to answer. So they just lie there, fingers lightly entangled, looking at the sky and avoiding each other’s eyes. 

  
  
  


…

  
  


The following days, Lucas tries, several times, to loosen the chains around his heart. He tries to put himself in different conditions : day and night, in the dark and in the sun, leaning against a tree, covered in flowers, sitting in a bath, alone and in Eliott’s company. But each time, invariably, the results are the same. The more he tries, the worse the awful grip gets, until he makes himself faint. 

He comes by only moments later, in Eliott’s arms. 

“Alright, that’s it.” Eliott says, a horrified look on his face. “We’re not doing this again. This obviously isn’t working. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack. I’m going to call Alexia to see if she can give us pointers.”

Lucas doesn’t dare argue with him, and to be honest, he can see the wisdom in that. Even though having to ask for help with this is humiliating. 

The witch, however, doesn’t have much to say ; this is not something she is familiar with, and she promises to do some research and call them again. 

Thankfully, the next day, he gets a message from Poseidon, that some of the gods - without Zeus - have accepted to hear him out, with a time and date for a meeting. Maybe Lucas can ask them for help. Which is...incredibly out of his wheelhouse. Usually. But times are changing and he needs to change with them.

…

  
  


They are slated to meet in a run down community space on the outskirts of town. Lucas can see the wisdom in that, since they are trying to keep a low profile. But still, he thinks, as he takes in locker room smell and old birthday decorations and discolorated linoleum floors. This is, uh. Yeah. A change. Eliott laughs at him as he pinches his nose slightly. 

The other gods are waiting for them in the events room. There is a stage made of rickety wood, and in the middle, a circle of chairs. It looks like the type of place that would be used for addicts group to meet, at least in the movies, depressing as hell with stock photography hanging on the walls, and humidity stains on the ceiling. 

At the same time...more gods have joined than he expected them to, honestly. 

He can see Aphrodite and Hephaestus, standing next to the buffet together, him serving her a cup of coffee. Hermes is standing a bit apart from the group with a woman he doesn’t recognize, using their hands to communicate. Artemis is there too, her hair purple this time, speaking with an angry looking young woman he has never seen before but whom Lucas is pretty sure is Nemesis. She’s been in the news regularly, one of the rare other gods competing with Lucas to give the Fates the worst headache. Sitting on a chair alone, a young brown haired woman with a sullen air who can’t be much older than eighteen and whom Lucas can’t really place in the Pantheon but knows isn’t simply human anymore. 

Poseidon, who smiles and walks towards them as they enter. And, standing alone and visibly uncomfortable, Hera. 

“What is Zeus’s girlfriend doing there ?” He asks Poseidon. “How the fuck do we know we can trust her ?” He can’t keep the venom from his voice entirely.

“Hey, chill.” Poseidon replies. “She stopped Zeus last time, didn’t she ? Listen to her story before you judge.” 

He feels Eliott’s hand against his back, and the tension drains out of him somehow. 

“Alright.”

  
  


…

  
  
  


They all sit down. Lucas really didn’t expect more than three or four people to join. This is... really a start. 

“How about we start by introducing ourselves ?” Poseidon proposes. “Our real names, I mean. I’ll start. My name is Yann. Before I got godlyfied, I was studying journalism. Ever since...I’ve tried to keep going with that, but it’s been tricky. Everything I do gets reduced to my godhood. But, I still feel like I have a chance to do something good. I’ve been involved with a charity that tries to get people involved in their neighborhood, help look after the less privileged, shit like that. Might as well use that spotlight, I guess. Alright, who’s next ?” 

“My name is Daphné,” Aphrodite says, “and this is my husband Basile.” She takes his hand. “I’m an event planner and stylist. We...try to keep a low profile. I guess.” 

“Arthur,” Hermes says. “This is Noée. We’re both deaf, so if you talk to us, please look at us directly so we can see your lips. I have hearing aids, they're just well hidden. We have our own indie video games company. I do the visuals and programming and she writes the story.”

“Maya.” That’s Artemis. “I study environmental policy at the university, and I work in a supermarket, part time.” 

“Lola.” Nemesis says, and leaves it at that. 

There is a beat of silence. “Manon.” Hera says. “I’m…I was a housewife. Now… I don’t know.” 

“Emma,” the teenager says. “I’m super new to this shit so I’m still in high school. Got told I was the new coming of Dionysus five days ago ? That’s fucking whack, man. I mean I like a party but the whole ceremony shit, and having my life fixed forever, that’s just not me, so I kinda bailed on the Fates before they came to get me and now I’m crashing on Arthur’s couch.”

Wow, Hades really launched a trend, apparently. He can’t help but like her for giving the Fates a hard time. 

“Wait, the old Dionysus died ?” Aphrodite - Daphné - asks. “How come we didn’t know ?” 

“Because we’re disconnected as fuck and nobody really cares about us as long as we follow the rules,” Lola says, her tone sour. 

There is another moment of silence. 

“Well, I’m Lucas,” Lucas introduces himself. “As you might know. I’m a venture investor, mostly, I also own a company that corners the market on most of the horticulture industry in the region as well as equipment and -” He stops himself, this is not a fucking board meeting. “Whatever. In my free time, I like to piss the Fates off. You might have noticed I’m kind of their scapegoat for everything that goes wrong since my godly consort fucked off to gods know where.”

“I’m Eliott,” Eliott says timidly. “I’m, uh. I’m Lucas’s bodyguard and exorcist.”

“Yeah, about that. I’ve been haunted by ghosts that try to kill me once in a while,” Lucas says nonchalantly, pretending to be more in control than he actually is. “Without Eliott, I would have been fucking toast. I consulted a necromancer. She thinks I’ve been cursed by another god.”

Several of them start talking all at once, faces shocked, and then stop. 

“Who do you think is behind it ?” Yann asks. 

“I don’t know. But I’m figuring Zeus is somehow involved, because he fucking hates me. So,” he turns towards Hera, “are you going to run to your husband after and tell him about our meeting?”

Hera pinches her lips tightly together. “Zeus doesn’t control me. Not anymore.”

Again, silence.

“But...you’re linked, aren’t you ? Aren’t you supposed to obey him ?” 

Her face turns dark. “That’s what I thought. For a long time. I let him organize my entire life, I was content to hang back and...I convinced myself I loved him. And there was passion for a while, yes. But not love. Love doesn’t do this.” She pulls her turtleneck down and reveals bruises around her delicate neck. “He flew into a rage when his old estate got destroyed. Not the first time it’s happened, but it’s definitely the worst. If our housemaid hadn’t interrupted us…” Her voice is oddly blank. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Lucas says, horror and dread invading his chest. He’d been the one that destroyed the estate. 

“Don’t be.” She answers. “This isn’t your fault. That was entirely Charles himself. He’s a terrible person, and becoming Zeus only amplified his nature. I let myself be blind to it for way too long, because it was easy. I thought, who am I to go against fate ? But fate is full of shit. We were never _ meant to be _ .” She swallows. “I’ve been staying at Daphne and Basile’s place ever since. I know he’s been looking for me. I don’t know what I will do when he finds me.” 

“We got your back,” Yann says. That means something ; he’s the third most powerful god after Zeus and Hades. The others nod. 

This is...Lucas has been learning a lot of late, about how there might be more to godhood than what they’ve been taught. But Hera, goddess of marriage, leaving her abusive piece of shit husband...that’s…

Fate is full of shit, indeed. 

“But maybe there’s something more to it.” Hermes says. “I mean, think about it. We’re not exactly poster kids for traditional reincarnation, are we ? Not only you, Hera. We’ve got Persephone partying down the house, literally, and Hades just fucked off. Hecate, too. And me and Iris ? We’re supposed to be the god of communication and the messenger of the gods, and we’re both deaf. It’s weird, right ? Almost as if...whatever picked us decided to break the mold on purpose. I mean, I’ve been thinking about this a while. I felt so bad when I was picked. Like I had to hide part of who I was. But then Iris joined me and she taught me there was this beautiful culture behind it and...that can’t be a coincidence, right ?”

Lucas remembers what Eliott said in the park. That them being flawed and not fitting their roles was the point. It sends a shiver down his back. 

“Well,” Maya says, “I want to save the planet, so Artemis’s thing for preserving nature is really working for me. But...I’m not a super fan of their literal interpretation of virgin goddess, honestly.” She takes Lola’s hand. 

“They don’t want us to be in love. The Fates.” Lola says. “They’ve been trying to get us to break up by any means necessary. Because it’s not written in the myths or whatever.” 

Lucas blinks. It’s a lot to take in. Because if...if they’re supposedly bound by fate and still can...holy fuck. 

This is just casually rearranging his entire view of the world and suddenly he feels very, very stupid. What if they’d talked earlier ? How much angst could have been avoided ? What if his tie to Hades doesn't have to be the life defining burden he's always seen it as ? What if him not wanting to fit into his box, not being able to, is actually a pretty damn common thing ?

“I’m…” Daphné starts, her voice hesitant. Basile wraps an arm around her shoulders. “I’m supposed to be the goddess of love and beauty and self confidence and I...well. I’ve been struggling with an eating disorder since I was fourteen.”

They acknowledge her words with a grave silence. 

“Wow, whoever picked us must have been drunk as shit.” Emma laughs, tone deaf in that very teenage sort of way. 

“Well, being the god of the sea is pretty chill.” Yann adds. “But Poseidon is supposed to be up there with Zeus in terms of being a fucking brute who doesn’t understand the concept of consent. And well, that’s really not my thing.”

“If it really was our destiny to fit into those roles...they would have picked better, wouldn’t they ?” Hermes says. 

  
  


“But maybe fitting into the box isn’t the point,” Lucas adds. He feels like they’re having a collective realization, and he can feel the energy elevate inside the room. “Maybe that’s precisely not the point. Maybe yeah, they planned on breaking the mold. Maybe whoever picked us...they wanted to shake things up.They wanted  _ us _ to shake things up.”

They all keep silent, considering the enormity of this. 

“If that’s true...what do we do about it ?”

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


After that, the meeting becomes effusive. Everyone agrees to come to Imane’s protest next week. They don’t know how to help Lucas with his curse, but they promise to try. 

It’s one hell of a rush, being part of a team. 

But he can’t help but need to ask the difficult question. 

“What if Zeus finds out ?”

“Well, he can’t face us all at once, can he ?” 

“He’s a lot more powerful than any of us, though. And he’s still got a lot of gods on his side, who love him. Athena and Ares, like, the two war gods. None of the minor gods would ever oppose him. And then there’s the Fates. We’re like...a very long way from unity.”

“What about Apollo ?”

“Didn’t ask. She’s always been neutral in conflicts.”

“She gave me a token of hers for Eliott, though.” Lucas explains. “I think she supports us, but she doesn’t want to damage her image.”

“We need the public opinion on our side. We need to make this about more than just about us. It’s about the way the Fates have been controlling this entire city and nobody has a say in it. That’s what’s wrong,” Yann says. “The law they’re trying to pass is wrong, but that’s not just it. It’s everything. It’s how we’re being used as figureheads of a system made to control people. We still have free elections and shit, but it means less and less. The mayor is a puppet. This has become a fucking theocracy. And mark my words, once this place is under control, they’ll move onwards. And well, I don’t want any part of that.”

  
  


He’s right. 

  
  


It’s the Fates they have to fight, isn’t it ? It’s always been heading that way. 

  
  


It’s not just change they need. It’s a fucking revolution. 

  
  
  


...

  
  


It’s the morning of the protest, and they’ve come early to help with preparations. Sofiane, Imane’s new boyfriend, is showing Eliott how to make geometric motifs for protest signs using tape and acrylic paint. Several other people are painting, drawing, cutting around them, turning the room into a hive of activity. 

Imane and Lucas are sitting in a corner with hot mint tea and little biscuits that Imane’s father brought to them while they’re supposed to be discussing ‘strategy’.

Sofiane is...Lucas likes the guy. There is something very easy-going about him, warm, honest. Unfussy, but sharp at the same time. And, with his bright smile, dimples, and curly hair, he’s very attractive. 

“Congratulations,” He tells Imane. “He really seems like a good guy.” 

She gives him a glowing smile. “Yeah, he is.” She sighs. “Lucas….help, I’m happy, and I don’t know how to deal with it ! It’s just...Very simple with him. It confuses me. I’m so used to...having to fight for everything, I just….” She laughs. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we have some fierce debates. He really gives me a run for my money when it comes to defending an opinion. But...everything else, the emotions...I’m like… a guy who knows to communicate ? Who doesn’t need to be told to do his part of the chores ? Who respects my boundaries instinctively ? What is this, a miracle ?” 

  
  


Lucas looks at Eliott, absorbed in what he is doing and absolutely delighted by the results of what they’re making - a big banner they’re going to hang above the entrance. He has a touch of green paint on the side of his cheek, as if he scratched his face and forgot he had paint on his fingers. 

  
  


Nothing between them is easy, and it still feels like a miracle. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The idea of being happy is really scary sometimes.” 

  
  
  


“Oh really, do you ?”

  
  
  


Fuck. Way to give himself away. He looks down, blushing. 

  
  
  


“I knew it !” She laughs, high and joyful. “I knew it ! I knew there was something between the both of you last time, I just got this vibe…”

  
  


He bites his lip. “It’s not...well, alright. I didn’t tell you but, the night before he started working for me, we had a one night stand. We didn’t even know, it was totally random. He was just this really attractive stranger I thought I’d never see again. I mean...he was the one that left in the morning without leaving a number, so...But then he showed up to my office and he was the only one who knew how to handle the ghosts. I mean, it was probably a bit stupid to hire him, but you know how many incompetents I had to deal with. So like...I didn’t want personal stuff to get in the way. And I just...I guess I wanted him around.” He blushes. “I don’t know how to handle this, like at all. I’m lucky he’s patient. I made an ass of myself so many times.”

  
  


She puts her hand in front of her mouth in played up outrage. 

  
  


“Oh my god, your life is a sitcom.” 

  
  


“Yeah and ever since...well. We became friends, and I just...I really, really like him, you know. I just...he makes me feel safe. And...we’re still into each other. A lot. We’ve talked about it. We’ve decided to wait until he doesn’t work for me, but afterwards…I want to do it properly this time. Like, dating and shit.”

  
  


Imane giggles. “That’s so cute.” 

  
  


He feels so happy all of a sudden. He remembers last time they had brunch, how miserable he was deep down. And now, to be able to share like this about the men they love…

  
  


“What did I tell you, huh ? I knew someone would finally melt that ice heart of yours. I mean, look at you. You’re like a totally different person.” 

Lucas knows it’s true. He can’t really dispute it. Both from his looks - again, he’s dispensed with the suit, throwing on a simple linen shirt and a loose blazer with filigrane flower patterns, his hair is messy, he’s wearing sneakers - and from the way he moves and feels. 

He looks at her. She’s wearing a head wrap with brightly colored patterns and little pearl earrings. She’s still the Imane he knows, bright and passionate, but some of her harder edges have mellowed into a soft impression of content. 

  
  


“Yeah, you too.” 

  
  


They clink glasses. “Here’s to not being a bunch of miserable bastards anymore.” He says. 

She rolls her eyes. “Stop projecting. I was a bastard, alright, but I was never miserable.” 

  
  


“I’m happy for you. You deserve something easy,” Lucas says, suddenly feeling the need to be very honest. “God knows the world is already giving us plenty of reasons to fight.”

  
  


She sighs. “Yeah. Fuck, I really hope this is going to go well.”

  
  


“Are you sure you want us here ?” Lucas asks. “I can’t help but have a feeling this is going to be a distraction from the issue at hand.” 

  
  


Imane looks at him and frowns, drinking little sips from her tea glass. 

“Yeah, well, I have thought about that. My parents, the imam and I will all give a speech, as well as other members of the community. We don’t want to make it about you. But...you just being there, it sends a strong signal. And like it or not, it will attract attention like nothing else will. Most people won’t care about a religious building belonging to a minority being shut down. They will care if you’re here, though. So I feel it’s a risk worth taking.”

  
  


“I told you I have a problem with ghosts, though. That could be an issue. Maybe the other gods would be better to have, but me…”

  
  


“You’re the Fates’ scapegoat. You’re...you’re a symbol, now, Lucas. Like it or not. A lot of people I talked to admired you taking a stand against Zeus, even if it was messy. If you do this, it will clarify your intent as political. We can build a movement like this - you, me, other gods, people from other minority communities…we can link it all together. Then it becomes a thing. Not just a series of anecdotes and mistakes.”

  
  


“The Magic Underground, too, I’m pretty sure.” Lucas suddenly realizes. 

  
  


“Well, they’re more controversial. People are scared of them. So maybe not right away. But in time, yes. I’ve talked to people from the Humanist League - you know, atheists. They’re also very motivated to make religion less of a part of politics. They were a bit doubtful when I talked about helping us defend our place of worship, but hopefully I made them see that this is connected and they’ll come later today. And I mean, they’re longstanding enemies of those Temperance jerks, so…”

“You’re good at this,” he remarks, and she blushes. “You sound like a politician, but like, a good one. Working for the people and shit.” 

“It feels good, doing this. A lot better than just...you know. Climbing the ranks.”

He nods. He’s been feeling that same thing. He just wonders what exactly he should do with the realization.

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


The protest starts at 2 in the afternoon. There’s about a hundred and fifty people already, mostly worshippers from the mosque and their families. There’s food, some music, games for the kids. It’s nice, but what they need is for a larger public to turn out. He can see how tense Imane is. Her brother Idriss is there too, helping her and trying in vain to get her to relax.

A small but steady trickle of curious neighbors come in, and then some people from the Humanist League, their leader a goth with spiky neon green hair. A group of Imane’s colleagues, in their fine suits, whom she is clearly surprised but happy to see. 

And then the gods arrive. By then, the square in front of the mosque is pretty full, and the moment is clearly a bit odd, a lot of people quieting and turning to look at them. But Lucas being there in advance has probably broken the ice a little bit. They’re just...people, with some added juice and influence, for all intents and purposes. He greets Poseidon and the rest with hugs and smiles. Lucas is surprised to find he is legitimately happy to see them. Their talk the other day caused them to bond in a way he never thought possible. 

Most unexpectedly, it’s Hera - Manon, who sticks to his side. Eliott is away helping Sofiane with the kids, and they're obviously getting along like a house on fire. Imane is busy talking to people, giving flyers and generally being a powerhouse, and the other gods have disappeared into the crowd, so it’s just the two of them. She’s wrapped in a huge coat, her face pale and half hidden into her cowl. Lucas finds that his animosity towards her has completely disappeared. He’s grown up as a first hand witness of the damages domestic abuse can do. And he can empathize with being stuck in a dysfunctional godly relationship with a domineering asshole. She’s lived the nightmare he’s been afraid of his entire life.

“How are you holding up ?” 

She shrugs. “I’m...still recovering, I guess. Daphné and Basile have been absolute sweethearts.” She looks around, her eyes wide and frightened. “I...I’m not really used to crowds anymore. Charles generally insisted on me staying inside all the time.” 

Lucas feels a slight uptick of murderous impulse, but keeps it in. She probably already knows how fucked up that was. 

“I wanted to thank you, for the other day. You’re the only one that stood up for me. That was very brave. Especially considering...what you had to lose.” 

She nods. 

“I don’t…” She looks away. “Charles is an abuser. What he did to me was one thing, but I couldn’t stand letting him do the same to others and not say anything. It made me feel complicit, you know ?” 

It’s sad, he thinks, that she was able to stand up for someone else rather than herself. But he recognizes it. His mother was like that, too.

“It wasn't your fault, that he treated you like that, or anyone. But...We’re not going to let him get away with it anymore. None of us. We’ve all kept silent for too fucking long. I think...he made us all believe that we were alone, but that’s not the case.” 

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


Eliott comes back to him at some point. 

“Look ! I made a balloon dog !” He shows Lucas the squeaky green thing, excitedly. Lucas laughs. It makes sense he’d be good with children. 

And that’s…well, that’s one hell of a thought, isn’t it ? 

  
  


Fuck. 

  
  


He wants to kiss him so badly.

  
  


Instead he squeezes the tip of the dog’s nose, making a squeaky sound. 

  
  


“Hey, don’t hurt my dog, you -”

  
  


He is interrupted by a rumbling, ominous sound. They turn around, as does everyone around them. It sounds like...people chanting. And marching.

  
  
  


_ What the hell.  _

  
  
  
  


The first thing they see is a group of people coming towards them from the main street. It seems small at first, but it soon appears to be a triangle - a few leaders, and a column behind them. They’re holding candles and wearing grey capes, and chanting what sounds like a traditional hymn, voices deep and grave. They’re holding flag banners, too, and as they get closer Lucas can distinguish the embroidered names of the Blessed Society for the Promulgation of Temperance and Piety and other groups like them. 

A feeling of dread invades Lucas’s stomach. He locates Imane in the crowd and rushes towards her. 

“Well, I guess that was to be expected, wasn’t it ?” She says, face serious. 

  
  


“Do you want us to hold them back ?” Lucas asks. 

  
  


“No violence,” Imane’s father says. “Especially since they’re not attacking us.” 

  
  


“Their presence here is an attack.” Imane’s brother responds. “They want to drown us out. They have double the numbers.”

  
  


“I have an idea,” Yann says. “Maybe, without using any violence, we can...dissuade them from coming any closer.” 

"Alright," Imane says. "Just...hold them back."

He directs his gaze towards the sky, and widens his hands. A ball of clear grey smoke starts to form into his hands, and in a flash, it spreads around the square, wreathing everyone in fog, before it condenses above their heads in a thick cloud. Yann directs it with his hands to nestle in the street right above the area that their opponents still have to cross. Then lays his hands down, and torrential rain starts to pour down. The marchers stop right in their tracks, the candles of the first row getting blown out. 

  
  


Oh, wow. 

  
  


Well, it makes sense that the god of the oceans would also have dominion over the water cycle. 

This is really happening, huh. They’re using their powers. to...do something, for better or worse. A shiver runs along his spine. He has a feeling that this is a point of no return. 

Another noise, on a parallel street at the other side of the square ; more newcomers. This time, with the heavy sounds of a marching army. Protesters gather closer to the center, worried looks on their faces. 

"Get the kids inside," Imane tells Sofiane. 

Lucas feels fear, this time, when he sees the people now marching towards them. They're all men, most buff and imposing, dressed as antique warriors, with pauldrons and lances and shields, and shiny helmets. He recognizes them instantly. They're worshippers of Ares, god of war, the most militant extremists, known to regularly go overboard to defend what they conceive as the purity of their faith. They're poster boys for testosterone poisoning, and about the last people Lucas would want to face in these conditions. 

But they're there. And they're not stopping.

Yann raises another cloud, but they keep walking right through the rain, droplets making clanging sounds on their helmets. 

Is this why the police didn't show up? Sent them to do their dirty business ? 

Lucas takes a deep breath, and walks forward in their direction, steeling himself. 

He sends his perception deep into the earth, to where seeds are buried, trapped in cracks and under the concrete. Usually they would never be able to achieve life, but today, he has to give them that extra boost. Yann’s water has soaked through, helping his powers spark.

He sends a rush of power fast, and weeds surge out of the cracks in the pavement, filling the entrance of the street in a matter of moments, several meters high. It’s impressive, sure, fast and freakish growth. But these are only still thick vines, and these men have swords. It’s only going to slow them down for a few minutes. 

He feels woozy all of a sudden, and stumbles back. 

Eliott catches him. “Are you ok ?” 

“It’s not enough,” he says, and walks out of the crowd, to the edge of the square. He can see some Ares devotees sneer at him through the weeds. 

"Lucas…"

Weeds, he has nothing but weeds, and for a moment he feels so inappropriate. But…he used to be able to grow flowers out of thin air, so what if…

He considers the weeds, down to their molecular structure. The basics are there - something in their development told them they were weeds instead of trees, but what if, with a little push, they could be convinced otherwise? To grow thick, solid bark, and massive branches, and powerful roots…

He channels his powers into that, but it's a completely different level of magic to what he is used to and for a moment he loses touch completely with what is happening around him, lost in the weaving of energy at sub-molecular level. 

When the grip on his heart manifests again, his mind is locked into the process, and he can't get out - he's trapped, he realizes in a panic, the weeds drawing energy out of him he can't afford to share, and the constricting feeling in his chest gets worse and worse and worse, black spots swimming on the edge of his vision and his weeds are still weeds, still struggling to transform, and he hears the wild noises around him, he's going to be trampled if he stays, he…

Eliott lays a hand against his back, between his shoulders, and power flows through him.

It's not his own power, and yet it's exactly what he needs. Deep, strong, immense reserves of power. Like miles of fertile earth for roots to sink into, like the strength of a mountain, stable and solid and protective. It flows through him, bursting his heart free of its shackles, and through his mind, into the weeds. Cells burst forth and multiply, lignous fiber becoming bark, trunks, branches, massive and thick, feeding on this incredible alignment. Energy pours out of him, multiplied, nourishing, healing, and on its way, it's as if it's setting straight every part of him that was ever crooked. 

He blinks, and opens his eyes. 

The space in front of him is filled with solid trees, branches entangled to form an impenetrable wall. He can perceive it being several meters thick, and even better, he perceives there is a matching one at the other end of the street, effectively boxing in the Ares devotees. 

Whoa. 

Eliott's arms around him are basically holding him up, and he feels somewhere between woozy and completely high. The ground beneath them is covered in little flowers, too.

He looks back behind them. The square is in turmoil ; Hephaestus, god of the forge, has bended several lampposts across the street to bar the Temperance clique from advancing any further. Most people have grouped in the middle of the square ; he can see that about a third have left, though, probably not expecting this. On the positive side, he can see a media van parked on one of the smaller streets.  And the Temperance people's chants have heightened in volume, the Ares devotees joining them with deep voices, until the noise is overpowering. The words they sing are mostly ancient Greek, words about damnation and purity, and it makes him want to flip a table. 

Lucas hobbles back to the center of the square, Eliott supporting him. He feels weak, exposed. He's never used his powers so publicly before.

Imane is standing at a small makeshift pulpit, ready to make a speech, her face shaken. She obviously didn't expect such resistance. None of them did. Lucas thought there would be repercussions in the press...but this...there is something so violent about simply wanting to ask for some space to exist and then being met with such loud refusal. 

Then Hermes, Arthur, raises his arms, makes a gesture with his hands, and the noise from their opponents vanishes instantly. The square returns to the peaceful atmosphere it had at the start. He can see the Temperance idiots look at each other in confusion, open their mouths louder. Arthur grins at them.

"Silence is nice sometimes."

Imane blinks and smiles at him. "Thank you." Then she grabs the microphone, clears her voice and steels herself. 

To the side of the square there are now several news vans filming, and people with their phones out. This is going to be a  _ moment _ , he knows it. 

  
  


"When my people came to this city," she starts, her voice a little shaky but growing in strength, "we were a humble people. But as the city grew, and we helped build it, so did we. And we were able to create this place of worship to honor our faith. A place of community, of warmth and light and learning. I think this is something we can all relate to. After all, this is the city of a thousand temples. We worship different gods, or none at all, but we all need a sanctuary. A place of safety, of unconditional love, of peace and forgiveness. This mosque isn't just four walls and a roof and some beautiful mosaics. It is sacred to us, it is home. I remember being five and playing hide and seek in the backyard garden with my brother, and falling into the fountain. I remember feasts gathering the entire neighborhood, on this very square. I remember going to the imam for moral guidance at the beginning of my career, when I was completely lost. This place has seen so many of us grow. It is so full of history." She marks a pause. The square is entirely silent, hanging on to her every word. "So when they come at us and tell us this place disturbs the cultural integrity of the neighborhood, I want to say, what the hell are you talking about ? We  _ are _ the culture of this neighborhood." 

At that, the square breaks into spontaneous applause. 

"What vision of history do you have in mind that needs to erase us ? How fragile are your gods that you need to destroy us to preserve them ? Are they really so petty that the simple view of us going about our own lives offends them ? Or are you simply attributing your own prejudices to them ?" 

Lucas applauds too this time. She is  _ nailing _ this, a born orator if he's ever seen one.

"We are not going anywhere. We will stay here, and we will fight for this city, and its effusive, beautifully diverse devotional fervor, and our right to be a part of it. But if you tell yourself that this doesn't concern you, that we are just a minority after all...if I were you, I wouldn't be so sure. Because this isn't about faith. It's about control, and about power. And once they get us out of the way, you're next. Because you're not praying enough, or wrong, or your skirt is too short, or you said something to offend, or you are living in the wrong part of town, or you want better wages, or you kissed the wrong person. It never stops. We are not a threat to the people of this city. But maybe you should ask yourself who is."

  
  


Damn. 

  
  


That's. Wow. A lot more radical than he expected, and so on point. He's got chills and looking at the expressions on people's faces...he isn't the only one. 

  
  


She steps down and passes the microphone to the imam. Sofiane envelops her in a hug, and she grins at Lucas. He feels so proud. He can remember when they first met, and most of their friendship was making prickly sarcastic jokes about the people around them. Both so invested in the fantasy of not giving a shit about anything but climbing on top of the rat pile. And she's come so far.

Hopefully they both have. 

…

His happiness is short lived, though, as Manon rushes towards him again, stress evident on her face. 

"Lucas, you need to leave. Charles is coming, he's got god-cops with him. I can feel him, and he is angry. He's looking for you in particular, he wants to teach you a lesson."

Abject fear rushes through Lucas's veins. "I can't leave, I can still help." 

"It's okay, Lucas." Imane says. "You have done a lot already. But you being here, it's an excuse for them to escalate the situation. Please get yourself to safety."

He nods. "Manon, you shouldn't be here either."

She clenches her jaw. "I'm tired of cowering. I'm still his godly consort. I'm about the only person he can't attack in public. I can use that."

"You won't have to do it alone," Yann says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Go, Lucas. We'll take care of it."

He nods, and looks at them all. "Thank you for coming, and thank you...for letting me a part of this." He feels a rush of shame at leaving, but they’re right. Right now, it’s the best thing he can do.

…

  
  


They escape by a small side street that runs along the mosque. For several blocks they walk so fast they are almost running, and Lucas can't shake the feeling he is being observed. They take the subway and get off at random stops, taking a very long way home to make sure they aren't followed. 

Once home, Lucas crashes onto his bed, still exhausted by the expense of power, and sinks into sleep immediately.

…

When he wakes up, it's dark outside, and someone - well, Eliott - has removed his shoes and covered him with a blanket. It's slightly too hot for him, but it's still sweet. It makes him feel so cared for. 

He gets out, feeling drowsy, and pads to the living room. Eliott is sitting in the social pit, drawing, and he immediately raises his head when Lucas approaches. Lucas slides in, setting next to him.

"How are you doing ?" 

"Better. Any news ?"

Eliott nods. "Sofiane called me. They're fine. They decided to disband the protest when the god-cops arrived to protect the most vulnerable, also because they said that the permit didn't cover that many people which was totally bullshit but yeah. They're going to organize a bigger protest next week though, better prepared, and apparently they got contacted by some unions ? Imane said she was happy with the outcome, this is bound to make a splash in the news." 

"Wow."

"Yeah. Also there was a bit of a tense standoff with Zeus but Manon was right, he couldn't move against her. She was really badass apparently. She basically threatened to tell everyone what he was doing to her if he didn’t fuck off."

He feels a rush of relief. Even though, down the line, he really thinks Charles should pay for all the shit he’s pulled.

"Oh yeah, also, you're going to get sued for property damages, apparently. The Ares guys weren't able to get out of the tree blockade, because the branches kept growing back, so they had to beg people to let them exit through their homes one by one.”

Lucas snorts. "So much for the warrior march."

"Yeah, well, the other gods have decided to stay at the mosque for a while. They're afraid of reprisals."

"Oh wow. This is really serious, huh?"

“Yeah.”

  
  


Honestly, everything that’s happened in the last few weeks makes his head spin. He doesn’t know if he wants a three-day nap or to never sleep again. He knows there is going to be consequences, and that some of them will definitely be directed at him, he just...he can’t imagine  _ not _ doing what he did. 

  
  
  
  
  


And it’s, for a huge part, thanks to the man sitting next to him. 

Lucas lets himself look at him, really look. Eliott has a tired air, bags under his eyes, he looks pale. It must have exhausted him to do whatever he did to give Lucas enough power to grow a small forest in the middle of the city. By all rights, he should be the one that spent the afternoon comatose. He looks at the drawings - they’re scenes of the protest. Fluid swirls of water and vines, elegant minimalist lines, animated faces - his faces are always so lively, so full of character. 

“You could sell those to a newspaper, I bet.” Lucas comments. 

Eliott nods, and then puts his sketchbook down. 

“Lucas, I…are you  _ really  _ okay ?” His lips are pinched, his nostrils flaring - he’s scared.

“I mean, I’m tired, but overall, yes, why ?” 

“What happened out there...what I did...I’m so sorry. I didn’t ask, I just pushed that darkness inside you, I was panicking, I just…”

Oh, fuck. 

Lucas takes Eliott’s hands. 

“Eliott, listen to me. What happened is that you very probably saved my life. The curse...someone put a cap on my ability to do magic, I think. Using my heart. The thing I was trying to do, it was killing me, because it was asking for more power than I could give, and I got stuck. And the power you gave me...holy shit, it was so good. It was the best thing I ever felt. And it wasn’t dark, it was...or maybe it was, but not in a bad way. It was exactly what I needed.” 

“It could have consequences,” Eliott says, and looks away. He’s ashamed, Lucas realizes. 

Lucas lets one of Eliott’s hands go, intent on proving his point. He closes his fist, and focuses his power. This time, there is no block whatsoever. 

“Hey, Eliott, look.” 

  
  


He unfolds his fingers. There, in the crook of his palm, there’s a little bud. A small rose, white with a pink heart, and it unfurls under their eyes, until it is fully blooming, its sweet smell wafting up to their faces. 

  
  
  


Something, out of nothing. 

  
  


“There were consequences, yeah. You _unlocked_ my powers. Whatever they did to me, the strain on my heart, I think it’s gone.” 

  
  


“That’s…”

  
  


“You’re a goddamn miracle, Eliott. You’re everything I never knew I needed. Sometimes you’d almost make it believe that fate makes good things happen, too.”

  
  


Eliott blushes and leans forward, looking at the flower, caressing the edge of a petal with his thumb. 

  
  


Gods, why isn’t he touching Lucas like that.

  
  


“You’re the one taking my darkness and doing things like this with it.” He whispers. 

  
  


“Before I met you, it was all fake,” Lucas responds softly. “No depth, no love.” 

  
  


Eliott looks up, slightly startled, like a rabbit in headlights. Does he doubt Lucas’s use of the word ? 

  
  


He notices how close they’ve gotten. The way Eliott is staring at his lips, the flush of his cheeks, his mouth slightly parted...all of a sudden, all his reasons for waiting feel so fucking stupid. Life is a mess, they don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow, why not enjoy every single minute of it ? And he knows he won’t really enjoy life, now, until he’s with Eliott. 

  
  


Fuck it. 

  
  


He leans in to close the gap between them, and for a moment, he is flying high. But then Eliott turns his head, avoiding him, pulling away. 

  
  


Again. 

  
  


“Shit.” Lucas swears. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He sits back, panic rushing through his mind and heart thumping a thousand miles per hour. “You’re still working for me, I get that, but we can, I can give you a lot of money, then…” Oh fuck, what is he  _ saying _ , that probably sounded horribly offensive. “Not...I’m not buying you, I mean, I’m not implying you’re a prostitute, not that there's anything wrong with being one, I mean.” Fucking hell,  _ stop talking _ . But he can’t seem to stop moving his lips. “You saved my life so many times, you deserve so much...and then it won’t be an issue between us anymore and I can fire you and you can help me just like that and afterwards we can just...Eliott, I’m so sorry, please talk to me, did I misinterpret this thing between us ? Are you...Are you humoring me ?”

Eliott nods his head, still not looking at him. 

“I’m not good for you, Lucas.”

  
  


Wait….what ? 

“What the hell do you mean ?” 

“There are things about me...about my past...you don’t know. I do have a lot of darkness in me. No matter what. You can’t change that, no matter how beautiful you and your powers are.” 

Lucas stares at him, taken aback. “I don’t care about your past. You can tell me at your own rhythm, or never. I know the sort of person you are. You’re kind, and generous, and you have a lovely mind. That’s what matters to me.”

Eliott shakes his head. He looks...so sad, all of a sudden. 

“Whatever draws you to me...it’s just a necessity. I make you feel safe because I rescued you from ghosts several times. Your life is instable, you need something sure to cling onto. That’s all. It’s not...whatever you think it is. In the long run, your life will go back to normal, and you won’t need me anymore, and you’ll see. I have no place in your life. We don’t...we don’t belong to the same world.” 

  
  


“Fuck you,” Lucas replies, feeling a sharp and sudden pang of irritation. “You don’t know that ! You don’t know me, or what I’m feeling. And if it’s time to psychoanalyze, I would say that you’re just scared, because you spent your life running away, and now that there is an occasion for you not to, to have something good that doesn’t hurt, you’re just going to sabotage it yourself because you’re, again, scared to be let down. So you’d rather disappoint yourself before life can do it again. Because it’s easier.” 

  
  


Something dark flashes through Eliott’s eyes. “You don’t know me.”

  
  


“Maybe, but I want to.” Lucas says, a note of challenge in his voice, a fire rising in his chest. “Maybe I don’t know you, not that well, but the last few months have been the best of my life, Eliott, because of you. I want to know how much more it can change me, to be at your side. I don’t give a shit that we’re not from the same world. It doesn’t...it doesn’t matter to me, all that shit. I’m realizing...it’s pointless when you’re alone, and I…” He takes a deep breath, to avoid going into another stupid rant. Focus. “Yes, you helped me, but that’s not all. You saw me at my worst moments, and you were never anything but kind and patient. You’re funny, you’re sweet, you’re supportive, you  _ get _ me. I get it, some dark stuff happened in your life, and I’m sorry. You can tell me at your own pace, or not at all. But I see the man you are now. You’re brave, caring, empathetic. You’re...you pay attention to people. You’re creative. You’re everything I want to be more like as a man. So...ask me for time and space if that’s what you need, I can wait, but please don’t push me away. Please.”

  
  


Eliott closes his eyes, his eyelids trembling. 

  
  


“Lucas,” he exhales. Nothing else for a moment, and they stay there - it’s as if there is a war going on in Eliott’s mind, and Lucas wishes...wishes he could hold him, help him, figure out what the problem is and fix it, but he can’t, so he just sits and waits. 

“You’re right,” he finally says, very softly. “I am scared. I am not used to this, and running away would be easier. I just...I’m going to hurt you, if I stay, Lucas, and I don’t want to.” 

“I might, too,” Lucas answers. “Hell, I probably already did. I was awful to you in the beginning, and look where it got us. I’m so glad you didn’t tell me to go fuck myself, even though you would have been justified. I think I owe you double that patience. And I’m not good at this shit either, I’ve been panicking for weeks, I...just...I just feel this could be so great. Worth every bump in the road. Don’t you ?” 

  
  


Another pause. 

  
  


“I’ve never known a road that went somewhere I would want to go.” Eliott replies, eyes haunted. “But... I know that I like walking at your side. I would like continue to do that for at least a while.” 

It's not much, really not, and yet at his words, Lucas' heart blossoms like a rose, too long kept from unfurling in a tight dark place, finally brought to the light. 

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh awwww bbies :/ 
> 
> anyway, what did you think ? sorry for the continued will they won't they torture, i promise it's almost at an end ;) 
> 
> next time : a scandal, and an escape


	13. Chapter 12 - Eliott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will you run, or will you dare ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys ! after a life-happening related hiatus, I'm glad to be back with A Chapter ! Hope it will have been worth the wait ;) we are getting to the VERY INTENSE part of the story, from this chapter on. Updating twice a week with chapters this long is kind of impossible though so my goal from now on will be to update once a week (towards the beginning of the week hopefully)
> 
> thanks for sticking with the story <3 hope you enjoy this chapter. took me some time but i'm pretty proud of it !
> 
> content warnings :
> 
> depressive/dark thoughts  
> ghosts/spooky imagery
> 
> (spoiler)  
> .  
> .  
> .   
> smut at the end of the chapter (from 'as if on cue, the sky breaks...) to the end

_ Chapter 12 - Eliott  _

A dead wind rises from the depths of the earth, pushing him to walk in one direction only on paths clouded by fog dark like soot. Until he finds himself in front of a crumbling temple, its dome cracked open like an egg, half of the building torn apart. As if a giant hand reached from the sky to destroy it as easy as a sandcastle. 

He can smell rot and decay and dust in the air. It's so thick that if he had needed to breathe, it would have been impossible. The ceiling is low, oppressive, heightened pressure heavy on his shoulders.

He wants to escape. But he knows he can't.

He can see strange misshapen chimeras lurking in the corners. Rows of skeletons animate in his wake, their teeth chittering in a terrifyin g cacophony. 

At the far end of the temple, there is a throne - a high chair sculpted in yellowing bone, lined with skulls and spikes, gone soft with the centuries. It is empty. It has been empty for such a long time, and yet Eliott knows there is nothing in the world that scares him more than having to sit in it.

Clammy little hands appear out of thin air, then, to pull him forward towards it, and he feels so weak, too weak to resist.

In a last attempt, he sinks to his knees.

A thousand murmurs arise around him.

_ Hades _ . 

_ Hades. _

_ Hades. _

_ Hades, where are you? Please come home. This place is so awful and dark without you. The dark knaws at the edges every day a little more. Soon there will be nothing left but madness and despair.  _

_ It will be hell for everyone, forever.  _

_ Please.  _

His heart swells with horrible, blackened guilt. But he knows he can't do this. He is too weak. He cannot be the king they seek. He wouldn't be able to keep the darkness away ; he would only make it worse. He would let himself, and all of them, swallowed whole. All the restless dead and the demons of the world, and he can't even deal with his own.

Maybe they need a better Hades. But there is only one way for that to happen.

  
  


Next to a throne, a specter appears and walks into a pale ray of light, dust motes shining through her grave face. She turns her glass eyes, so vibrant in life, and now completely drained of color, on him.

  
  


_ What is necessary is rarely easy, my son. _

  
  


.

.

.

Eliott wakes with a start and the taste of bile in his throat. Around him, a darkened room materializes - the indistinct mass of a cupboard, the outline of psychedelic wallpaper. Yes - he's in Lucas's guest room. Awake. 

He sits up, plastering his hands on his face, wishing he could erase what he has just seen from his mind. Wash away the feeling of despair it brought. 

Was this in any way real ? is this what the Underworld looks like nowadays ? Are its denizens really that lost without their king ? Or is it just an illustration of his guilt ? 

He feels sick just thinking about it.

He throws the covers off, hastily throws on some clothes, and escapes out of the apartment. Going outside is a bad idea, he knows, but the apartment complex has a secluded garden, filled with birch trees and palms and a little fountain, tranquil in the early morning light. He walks into it until he can find a spot where he can almost pretend he is in a forest, away from everything.

  
  


It doesn't work for very long until the anxiety is bubbling up into his chest again.

He looks at his phone. It's half past seven. Too early to call anyone. 

He waits another twenty minutes, sitting on a bench, and then he gives up on trying to settle his nerves. He dials Hecate's number, which he'd saved in his phone just in case.

"Hello, this is Alexia, how can I help you ?" Her voice sounds way too chipper for such an early hour. 

"I, uh. This is Eliott...I'm, uh, you know. We came to your shop a while ago."

"Yes, Eliott. I know who you are. What's up ?" 

He feels stupid all of a sudden. 

"I'm sorry for calling you so early, this was stupid, I can call back later, I…"

"Hey, hey, don't worry. I don't give this number to everyone. Only to people I know I really want to answer anytime. And you...well let's say you're a long lost family member. So, talk to me."

"Oh. Okay. I, uh." Gods, where to start. There is so much going on. And he is not used to sharing his troubles with other people, especially people he's only ever met once. But he can't deal with all of this alone anymore. And she is the only one he _can_ talk to, right now. So he tells her everything, in hesitant terms. The curse still affecting Lucas's heart, the protest and what had happened when he shared his power, his dream.

"Hm. Interesting." She replies when he is done. "Would you mind giving me the number of Lucas's friend, the one who organized the protest ? People down here are very restless, I have been trying to guide that energy into something productive."

"Sure." He replies. "Do you...fuck. I'm so scared I did something to him, though. With my powers. Like...bonded us, without his consent. I would never forgive myself."

"Oh, darling." Alexia replies, her tone soft. "No, that doesn't happen like that. There is a binding ceremony for Hades and Persephone, yes, but it is very specific. First, Persephone has to descend into the underworld, and then eat three seeds of a pomegranate from the sacred tree and there is a ritual and then...well, the marriage has to be consummated. So yeah. It won't happen by accident, don't worry. Even though it does not surprise me that your powers responded to each other like that." 

A part of the weight lifts off Eliott's shoulders. "I just...he's changed so much, lately. In a good way, yes, but I can't help but think I am influencing him with my powers."

"Maybe you just make him happy," she suggests. 

That's…

"Listen, Eliott," she continues, "I think you take this god thing too seriously. I have never heard of a god having their entire personality changed by interacting with any other god, even their consort. And like...you know not all Hadeses and Persephones even got along, right ? So no, you're not secretly brainwashing Lucas just by being around him." 

"It's just, Zeus made it sound like Lucas was acting out because he didn't have his Hades, that he needed Hades to teach him how to behave and put him in his place so he can be a proper Persephone or whatever. I don't want to do that."

"That's gross. Zeus is an abusive douchebag. You do not want to take any advice from him, especially when it comes to your love life."

She's right. Zeus may be the king of the gods but Eliott has seen enough to just know that there is absolutely no spiritual wisdom in him. 

He sighs. "You're right. Thanks. It just gets so tangled up in my head sometimes." 

"Hey, no problem. It sucks being alone with this and most of the guidance we get is bullshit. I've been...researching, how other gods dealt with this. A lot of the time any recordings have gotten destroyed or erased, but I found journals of a Hecate that lived three centuries ago, and it's...so interesting. They have hidden so much from us about what we can do, just to replace it with their bullshit rituals and obligations...but anyway. I think it's good that you are exploring your powers on your own, in any case. Figure out what they mean for you."

"Yeah. I just...well. What if...me lending my powers to Lucas, it broke the curse ? The ghost magnet and everything? Then I have no excuse to stay anymore. I just...I promised myself I would leave once that was done. For both our sakes, Lucas has made it clear he wants nothing to do with Hades. But it's so soon, I'm not ready to leave, I…"

"Well, you don't know. Ghosts could come back." She suggests. 

She's not wrong. 

"Yeah, I should probably stay with him for a few more weeks." Even if he knows it sounds like a huge excuse.

"Maybe you don't have to run at all," she says, so softly he almost doesn't hear her. 

"I can't think about that." Eliott replies. It's too fucking dangerous.

  
  


…

  
  


Her words follow him as he climbs back up to their apartment, willingly using the stairs. So many of his conceptions of the gods were wrong, so what if…

But it's so cruel, that sliver of hope. He can't continue giving false hopes to Lucas like that. He can't tell him the truth either. So what options does that leave him with except for running ? 

He enters their place to delicious breakfast smells, and finds Lucas in the small, extravagantly tiled orange kitchen. He's making waffles, humming to himself, and slicing strawberries, while still in his pajamas - well, his boxer and a robe. It's such a domestic scene that Eliott is seized by the urge to come up to him and wrap his arms around him from behind and draw him in and kiss his cheek, like anyone would do upon coming home and finding their lover cooking for them. One language of love to another.

Fuck. 

Lucas turns around, with a shy little smile. Eliott tries very hard not to stare at his very well defined bare chest, or how smooth and inviting his golden skin looks in the morning light. "Hey, just thought I'd make breakfast as thanks for yesterday, I...did you go outside ? I thought you were still sleeping."

"Yeah...I, uh, had a bad nightmare. I needed some air."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Lucas says. "I can provide waffles as a remedy, though."

"Waffles sound lovely," Eliott replies, unable to stop himself from grinning. 

When he first started working for an annoying, entitled jerk a few months ago...this is really not the outcome he had in mind. 

He's so fucking screwed.

  
  


…

They take their food onto the balcony, sitting in their folding chairs, eating and watching the city wake up. Along with the strawberries, Lucas has topped the waffles with whipped cream and an absolutely decadent orange-caramel sauce. It's the best breakfast he's ever had in his life, honestly, he could almost cry from it. 

Whoever gets to have this for the rest of his life will be a very lucky man. 

He wants that man to be him. But...it's not meant to be. Because he would have to lie for the rest of his life, and he can't do that to Lucas. And telling him the truth...it would potentially render his mother's sacrifice useless. 

  
  


Her voice filters through in his brain.

_ You're a sweet soul, my Eliott, but not a fighter. You don't have it in you, to do this. The Fates have played a cruel trick on us, but we don't have to take it. We'll keep you hidden, it will be best for everyone. _

He's never questioned his mother's choices. Always was thankful for her saving him from a fate worse than death at the cost of her own life. But...now, part of him can't help but wonder how she was so sure he wouldn't be able to handle being Hades. 

He feels so ungrateful even going there ; sacrilegious. But...when he was growing up, it was always the two of them. His mother's job as an itinerant sorceress kept them on the roads, isolated from modern society and his peers. She was his whole world. They were a good team, for sure, but he didn't learn how to question her. How to interact with others. He's spent almost his entire life on the move. A few years settling here and there, but that never lasted. So it's always seemed common sense to him, to always prepare to leave. 

_ Many people won't like you, and that's okay. You're special. The world doesn't deserve you anyway.  _

That's what she had said when the symptoms of his illness had first started to show, the fierce mood swings that made him lose control over his own brain. As if to console him of being set apart. A,d for a brief time he had loved being special - because he already felt like it. He knew a lot more about magic and life and death than other kids his age. He'd helped birth babies and washed corpses and seen the dancing lights that the feral gods create in the forest to lead fools astray. He knew how to track animals and hunt and survive in the wild, how to read omens in the flight patterns of birds, how to find the healing plants and the poisons. It had been a cool way to live, for sure. But it had been so lonely. A trap, in a sense, a specialness that left him alienated from his peers. His mother always chided him when he expressed sadness over having to leave any friend he would make behind. She'd been so committed to keeping him from the world. And he can't help but resent her for it, in hindsight. The way she'd made sure that loneliness was always baked into him, even in the middle of a crowd.

_ People are unreliable, Eliott, and human bonds are weakness. You must grow strong without them, and then you will not suffer so damn much. Most humans huddle together because they are scared, that's all, and needy, and it makes them complacent.  _

Sometimes, she would disappear, and leave him to fend for himself. The first time, he was seven, and he thought he would die. He'd finally wandered into a small hamlet and hidden inside a barn. He'd stolen food and slept in the hay, although in hindsight he is pretty sure that the farmer's wife knew he was there and left food out for him. His mother had come back two weeks later and she had been very disappointed to find him there, telling him off for not surviving in the wild, and the next time, he'd  managed. 

Gaining those skills, however, had not made the loneliness go away. So he'd started dreaming - about all the fantastic adventures he would have as a grown up, the friends he would make. It felt too illicit to invent wholesale people, so his imaginary friends were mostly talking, clever animals. In particular, there was a raccoon he used to imagine perched on his shoulder, always dispensing snarky commentary on the things his mother said and the strange people they met. 

When she had died, for half a year, he'd gone feral. He'd hidden in the woods, without talking to a single soul. But he had started to get plagued by horrifying nightmares, the dead trying to speak to him. It had almost driven him mad, until one day, a deep voice had boomed into his mind and commanded him to go back to civilization. He'd sought out one of his mother's old friends, who had trained him as an exorcist. Slowly getting used to being around people again had been a struggle.

That voice had been Hades, hadn't it ? Except he hid his identity because he knew Eliott hated his godly calling with a fiery passion.

He looks at Lucas. He's done eating, too, has set his plate on the ground, and now he is simply enjoying the sunshine, eyes closed and soaking in the light - like a plant finding nourishment from the sun, he muses. It strikes him, in that instant, stupid stereotypes set aside, how gracefully Lucas fits his powers. Like a seed that has no choice about where it gets thrown to take root, and perseveres in difficult terrain regardless, pushing through earth and frost and rain and wind to blossom into something extraordinary. 

How does one gracefully accept being the god of dead things ? When his love for living things has been his only saving grace for so long ?

"I know you're looking at me," Lucas says, his eyes still closed. 

Eliott's cheeks heat up. "No, I'm not. I'm looking at the sky." 

"Liar," Lucas says, playful, his words sending a chill along Eliott's spine. "But it's okay. I like it when you look at me. It's like...being held. Gently." 

Eliott shivers. Does he think he can just say things like that because it won't count if his eyes are closed ? 

He doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to answer. His heart is thumping in his ears.

_ When you look at me, it's like being set on fire, but in a good way. Dying and being brought back to life, all at once.  _

Lucas opens his eyes, and finds Eliott ready to fall into the blue of his irises. He smiles, a wonder of a smile, cheeky and self satisfied at having his hunch confirmed, cocking his head a little bit as if to challenge Eliott to keep denying the truth. And he can't. One way or another, his gaze always turns back to Lucas. 

He's spent all his life secretly believing he wasn't made for this - for being around people, and even more, sharing this sort of intimacy with someone.

So why is everything so goddamn easy with this man ? 

  
  


…

  
  
  


It's around 10 am when they return inside. Lucas's phone is buzzing insistently on the table. 

"Fuck." He says when he picks it up. "Fourteen missed calls and twenty five new messages. This must be bad."

Eliott's anxiety spikes back up with a fury.

"Do you think this is about the protest?"

"Yeah, in some way. But like...most of the media in this town are controlled by religious groups in this city. So...if I were them, I would play strategy and...find a distraction. Because the last thing they want is people uniting against them."

Eliott's mouth dries. "What do you think…"

"It's going to be bad, whatever it is." He looks at his phone as if it was venomous. 

Eliott grabs it, and swipes the lock screen away. Lucas exhales and lets him do it. 

A lot of messages are asking if he's seen the news. Eliott gingerly clicks on one of the links.

  
  


GOD KILLER? is the headline that jumps from the screen at him, accompanied with the byline  _ Ex-lover of Persephone reveals shocking tale of necromancy and insatiable lust for power, leading to ultimate blasphemy !  _

  
  


What the…

"It says that one of your...exes talked to the press and told them about some scandal." 

Lucas's face goes white. 

He wrenches the phone from Eliott's hands, and scrolls down, making an offended noise as he reads further. 

"That's...that's…what the fuck… They're saying that I do necromancy in my spare time for  _ unholy purposes _ and they think I  _ killed Hades _ to take his powers for my own. That's so fucking ridiculous I'm… " He puts his phone down, but it immediately starts ringing. 

He picks up, mostly listening, answers terse and tone clipped, his face showing increasing signs of trying to contain distress under a mask of control.

"Well, that was Moira. She told me that the company's stock just tanked 4 billion, and that's just the start."

He sinks into the chair behind him. "She thinks I should step back from my position as CEO to preserve the company's reputation. Because who cares about facts, right ? All that asshole had to do was go running his mouth and…fuck." He says, hiding his face in his hands.

"I'm so sorry." 

He goes on a scrolling spree of his own, to the news site that broke the story. It's a convincing yarn, seeding bullshit with enough intimate details to make it seem real. And the tone is so...prurient.

"They have pictures of you being haunted. And your apartment after the first curse." 

"Fuck, I really need to fire my interior decorators, huh." 

The article is a long expose mainly based on the testimony of one man, George, who claims to have dated Lucas five years ago. He explains that he saw signs that Lucas was engaging in forbidden magic on a level that did not match Persephone's powers. It's also a meticulous character assassination, making Lucas out to be some lecherous pervert with a morbid fetish for the undead, and strings coincidences together to support the idea that the reason Hades never showed up is because Lucas tracked him down and killed him before the Fates could find him, for the purpose of absorbing his powers. 

Fuck. This is complete nonsense. And it's just...disgusting. Making Lucas out to be some sort of horrible murderer...like...how low can they get ? How could anyone believe this bullshit ? 

“I knew that getting with that asshole would come back to bite me in the ass.” Lucas says spitefully. 

“It’s...you really dated ?” 

“Yeah, I used to have terrible taste in guys,” he bites his lips and looks away. “Fuck. They really don't respect anything, huh.” He drops the phone onto the table and heads for the bathroom. He leaves the door open and Eliott follows, unsure what to do, hovering on the doorstep.

He sees Lucas stepping under the shower with his clothes still on, however, and figures that it might be good to...let him know he’s not alone. 

There’s not a lot of space in that ridiculous space pod shower. Lucas lets himself sink to the ground, and Eliott follows, shoulder to shoulder, feeling the water douse his hair. 

“I like being watered,” Lucas laughs dismissively. “Just like a potted plant.” His expression turns rageful. “Fucking useless, too.” 

“Lucas, what…”

“Yeah, I fucking dated that asshole. Georges Monteaud. In the beginning, he was so damn charming. He made me believe...that he saw me for me and not my powers, that he didn’t care about that. He made me feel like I could fall in love with him, like he could love me, for real. But in the end...he was just in it for the clout, and the money. And when I discovered the truth I rejected him and ...of course he would still jump at a chance to use the whole thing for his own advantage somehow.” He shivers. “I was such an idiot. I let him into my life, I opened up about my insecurities to him, and he just...let me down in the worst way possible. And that’s when I realized, I would never be able to date. Until...well, I don't know. It fucked me up for a long time.” He looks at his open hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Eliott says, “you deserved so much better.” But internally, he is frozen. Isn’t that what he is doing, insinuating himself into Lucas’s life under false pretenses ? 

“I don’t know about that, honestly. I was such an asshole sometimes. I used my powers for monetary gain, I treated people like shit, I didn't think about the consequences of my investments…Fuck. I can’t lose everything, Eliott.” He can hear the panic in his voice. “I’m okay to have a crisis of conscience, I want to be a better person, but the truth is, without...without my company, without my money, they can just come for me and I won’t be able to do anything about it and I fucking...all the people that call themselves my allies, they will just turn away, look away. Hell, I bet they’re already thinking about cutting ties with me, even after those whose fortunes I made. It’s just...and i worked so fucking hard and I sacrificed...my mother would still be alive, if I didn’t...and I can’t….” Lucas's voice gets choked up, and he looks up, putting his face directly into the stream, evidently trying to keep himself from crying.

  
  


Oh, he gets it. He gets it so well. He has very little words to offer. So he wraps an arm around Lucas and holds him tight until the panic washes away down the drain. At least temporarily.

  
  


…

  
  


"I need a fucking drink." Lucas says, once they're out of the shower and dry, and pours himself three fingers of whiskey and throws it back, looking at Eliott as if to challenge him to stop him. He can see the Lucas he first met in his eyes, and the Lucas that tore the club down. But he sees through the bluster and the bravado now. He can feel how Lucas is practically vibrating out of his skin, with anxiety and restlessness and anger and shame, and how difficult those emotions are to deal with. His powers, too, making everything worse, an excessive wave of energy called against a threat that has nowhere to go, except it's not creative as usual - it's destructive, and it unsettles Eliott. He doesn't know how to conciliate it with what he knows of Persephone. 

But he knows that in this state, Lucas is likely to hurt himself. The excess of energy makes him self-destructive, and it's like he gets stuck with it, like he hasn't learned how to channel it. Eliott understands that oh so well, even though when it happens to him, it tends to be a bit more raise-the-dead dramatic.

"Can I...can I try something?"

Lucas frowns, spiky. "Like what ?" 

"An energy thing. I can feel you, it's...a lot. Maybe I can help."

Lucas stares at him, confrontational. "My life is a complete mess. You're not going to fix that with a few magic tricks."

"Yeah, but maybe it will make you feel better. And if it doesn't, then I promise I'll get plastered with you."

Lucas scoffs. "Alright. That I would like to see."

Eliott walks up to him and stands himself behind Lucas's back, and takes a deep breath. Whatever he did at the protest happened completely out of instinct. But maybe this time, he can take power instead of give, just the excess. 

He lays his palm behind Lucas's shoulder blades again, and focuses. Lucas's aura welcomes him in, energy soft and giving under his touch, but he mentally pushes further and he can feel it - this barrier that he is raising up, spikes and teeth, a lot of them turned against himself, hurting himself. Gods, if that's a sign of how Lucas feels about himself, deep down... And below that, pure chaotic power, trapped with nowhere to go.

His instincts, again, tell him what to do. There is a part of him that wants to sink himself into Lucas's energies and lose himself, but he can't, especially not without Lucas knowing who he is. So he paces himself. He doesn't want to drain Lucas or take away his shields, but he imagines himself going over the spikes with a loving intention - like the mental equivalent of a hug. He projects  _ you are enough, you are safe, you are good, you are loved _ . And they respond to him, all turning towards the outside as the grip of shame is loosened. Then he makes a conduit for the trapped energy, and gently directs it to the ground, just the excess of it, and to finish, he channels out towards Lucas some of that cool, earthy power he found in himself the last time. 

Lucas gasps and crumbles forward, and Eliott catches him, holding him against his chest. 

"Are you okay ?"

"Yeah." Lucas says, his voice very shaky. "Fuck. I feel so much better, how did you even..." He turns around and wraps his arms around Eliott, laying his head in the crook of his neck. "My miracle worker," he whispers. "How did I ever manage without you ?" 

Eliott tightens his hold. "Just like I did without you," he replies. 

Lucas exhales loudly. "Yeah. Surviving, not living." He pauses. "Can we...can we take a nap ?"

He hears the silent request in his words, and so when Lucas goes to his room, he follows. He lies down on the bed next to him, and wraps himself around him, spooning him. It remains chaste, and Eliott is pretty sure neither of them really fall asleep. It's more of an excuse to be close, and it feels so damn fucking good Eliott wonders why they keep denying themselves, really. It boggles his mind how this is both so soothing and at the same time, complete torture.

But at least he can feel Lucas settle against him, energies calmer even though still a little agitated.

He can’t exorcise this away, but he can help Lucas through it, and so he will. 

  
  


…

  
  


A little later, they make an appointment with Moira, to officially hand over control of the company to her. Lucas will still keep a majority of the shares, but executive control will not be in his hands anymore. They are set to meet in a discrete café away from the center, to make sure nobody sees them.

While they're on their way - in incognito clothes, using the beat up car - Eliott feels a spike of adrenaline every time they cross a busy road, and he can’t help but come up with terrifying scenarios - what if the god-cops find them ? What would they do to Lucas ? He’s heard of stories of gods punished for defying the Fates, stripped of their powers, imprisoned. And what if they discover his own status, would they punish him too, for running ? Would they use their bond against them ? Would they forcefully banish him to the Underworld ? Force them to marry ? Keep them apart forever ? Or simply set up an  _ accident  _ so that their godly essences can move on to more suitable candidates ? His mind floods with horror at the idea of any of those things happening. He just...it can’t. 

He has no clue how far he would go to prevent it, but he has an inkling it’s pretty damn far. 

…

When they enter the café, he immediately knows which one is Moira - she has CEO written all over her face - in her forties, slim, sharply dressed in a pale cinched dress, impeccable blonde bob. He wonders if she is the backstabbing type. He tries to breathe ; he's not here to be nervous or attract any attention. But gods, he wishes they could just sign in a rush and leave as fast as possible. He doesn't trust the world anymore, especially not with Lucas's safety. 

He turned into an actual bodyguard along the way, somehow. 

“Good afternoon, Lucas.” She gets up when they arrive. “I am so sorry about what happened.” Her tone is solicitous but her face is devoid of emotion. Like a well practiced blank mask, calculated to give nobody a grip on her, a way to read her. 

He doesn't trust her, not one bit, but there is nothing he can do about it. He's just the bodyguard, after all.

...

They shake hands and sit down. A waiter arrives to take their drink orders, coffee for Moira and a green smoothie for Lucas. Eliott remains standing at Lucas's back, as impassible and stoic as he can manage. 

Moira throws him a disdainful look before adressing Lucas. "Don't you think we need a bit more privacy for this conversation ?"

"No, it's okay, I trust him," Lucas blows her off. "So, did you bring the paperwork ?" 

"First of all, I wanted to thank you. I have watched this company grow and watched you put your soul into it and it's really a shame -"

"That won't be necessary." Lucas cuts her short. "I'm still going to be the majority shareholder. I'll be fine."

She pinches her lips. "Yes, but new shares can be issued. Your percentage isn't guaranteed to always remain the same, especially if you can't make it to board meetings."

"Is that a threat ?"

"Of course not, I wouldn't dare."

"Good. Because I'll be back in no time." 

"Looking forward to it." She replies, eyes cold. She slides a folder towards him. The waiter comes back with their drinks. Lucas takes it, and starts reading the fine print, while sipping on his smoothie with a straw, noise slightly louder than is polite echoing through the café. He can see Moira's lips tighten and purse together in irritation.

Lucas can really make an art out of being a nuisance, Eliott muses. It used to piss him off, but in these circumstances...he can’t help but love it a little. 

He takes his time, and it's at least thirty pages. After twenty minutes, Moira clears her throat. "It's the same I sent you earlier." 

"I'm making sure nothing has been changed," he replies drily. It's pretty clear he doesn't trust this woman. She must be good at her job, but she clearly isn't an ally or a friend. 

Finally, he signs his name, with a flourish, on the last page, and signs the three other copies. 

"You finally got what you wanted, huh. Enjoy the headache. I think I'm going to feel a lot more free in the days to come." Only Lucas Lallemant would manage to sound smug after being forced to sign his company over.

She puts the folder back in her satchel and looks at him sadly.

"I'm sorry, Lucas. I don't think that's going to be possible."

Eliott's heart misses a step at her words.  Lucas looks at her, confused, but Eliott immediately understands. 

He turns around.

While they were talking, the cafe has mostly emptied itself. Now, blocking all the exits, men are standing. He can see glittering red badges on their chests.

  
  


A bolt of panic hits him.

_God-cops_. She's called the fucking cops. 

  
  


"This is for your own good." She says, trying on a concerned expression - it doesn't look convincing at all. "The type of magic you are dabbling in right now...it's not good for you."

  
  


"What the fuck are you talking about ? Don't tell me you believe that crap in the news."

  
  


"It doesn't matter what I believe. It's about what people believe. You’re going to get yourself locked up, sooner or later, and I’ll be damned if I let the company sink with you. I have put too much time and effort to let it be destroyed by some overgrown, irresponsible party boy."

  
  


"You backstabbing piece of shit." Lucas says, shock evident on his face. “You would be nowhere without me.” 

  
  


“Yes. And now I will soon be nowhere if I stick with you. Don’t take it personally. It’s just business.”

  
  


Eliott looks around. How the fuck didn't he notice ? He was too fucking busy staring at Lucas, he failed to do the most elementary part of his job - keeping him safe. There is nowhere to go. They're completely surrounded.

  
  


Unless…

  
  


He fishes the hourglass pendant from beneath his clothes and closes his hand around it. He reaches out with his newfound capacities and senses a dark, compressed source of power.

  
  


One year of his life if he turns it nine times. 

  
  


What is one year of his life compared to the disastrous consequences if they don’t get out of here as fast as possible ? 

  
  


He gets close to Lucas. 

  
  


“Can you create some sort of a plant distraction ?”

  
  


“No.” He says. He looks very pale. “I can’t feel my powers.” He looks at his drink. “Did you fucking spike me ?” he spits at Moira.

  
  


“They assured me it wouldn’t harm you long term. Just make you compliant, so we don’t have to make a scene.”

  
  


Well. He really doesn’t have a choice, then, does he ? He pushes the terror down. No time to be scared.

  
  


He puts his hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “Can you get up ?” 

  
  


Lucas does, but he sways and ends up hanging onto Eliott to remain upright. “I don’t feel very good.” 

  
  


“Don’t worry. I’m going to get us out of here.”

  
  


“Don’t be ridiculous,” Moira says, looking at Eliott with condescension. “A mortal like you can’t go against the Fates’ special unit. Step aside, and we will work out a way for you to stay on the company payroll. With a generous raise.” 

Lucas laughs. “Well, Moira, lucky for me and too bad for you, you’re talking to the only guy I’ve met in this city who doesn’t give a shit about money. I’ve been giving him a ridiculous salary for months and the only thing he’s bought with it is a pair of pyjamas with cartoon rats on them.” 

  
  


Eliott resists the urge to roll his eyes. That would be very inappropriate in this situation. “They’re raccoons, and they’re super cute.” 

  
  


And then, before he gets too chicken to do it, he turns the timer between his hands. 

  
  
  


One, 

two, 

three, 

four, 

five, 

six, 

seven, 

eight…

  
  


The god-cops start to walk towards them…

  
  


Nine. 

  
  


Eliott feels the difference immediately, something pushing on him, draining him, and for a brief moment he feels as if he’s been thrown in a compressor, before it relents and he can feel the shield. It’s a forcefield around them, making the outside world slightly blurry. 

One of the god-cops shouts something at them, but it’s distorted. 

  
  


“What the fuck ?” Lucas’s voice is the only one that remains clear.

“Alexia gave me a protective charm. Just turned it on.” 

  
  


“Cool, let’s get out of there,” Lucas says, but he takes two steps and stumbles forward, still weakened by whatever the fuck they put in his drink. He seems to be physically and magically out of commission, but at least he’s not ‘compliant’. Eliott doesn’t think there is a drug in the world that can make Lucas Lallemant ‘compliant.’ 

Which is awesome, but also, right now, they don’t have time to wait for it to wear off, so Eliott swoops him up and throws him over his shoulders in a fireman carry. Lucas lets out a little yelp but has enough sense to figure out it’s not the time to protest. 

A god-cop tries to walk into their way but the protective bubble throws him off. Someone fires some sort of a weapon, and something similar happens. Sparks fly, but they’re out of the café before anyone has the time to do anything, and then they’re in the street, and Eliott rushes to the car, opens the passenger door open to set him down in the seat, before getting himself behind the wheel. 

The bubble shimmers and fades slowly as the car gets underway but Eliott can still feel its presence. 

Fuck. That was a lucky escape, he thinks as he catches his breath. He turns to Lucas, who seems just as winded. Adrenaline is racing in his veins. That was one hell of a close call.

“I’m sorry I threw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes,” he says, with an apologetic smile, once they've both calmed down at least a little. 

  
  


Lucas scoffs. “Yeah, because that’s totally what I’m taking out of this whole situation. What are you, man, some sort of secret all-powerful magician ?” 

“I told you, it’s Alexia, she gave me a protective charm. Wasn’t sure it would work against people instead of ghosts but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“Well, thanks to Alexia, then. But you’re still my hero.” Lucas smirks at him. 

Eliott can’t help but blush a little. 

“Besides,” Lucas continues, “I don’t love being a damsel in distress, believe me, but that caveman carry thing was kinda hot, I have to admit.” 

Ok, blushing a lot now. He looks in the rearview mirror to deflect. 

“Are we being followed ?” 

Lucas turns around. “Probably, yes. They must have come with civilian cars. There is no fucking way they would just let us go, though. How long does the protective charm last ?”

“A day and a night.” 

“Wow, powerful stuff. Fuck, we can’t go back to the appartment. We need to disappear.”

“The Magic Underground again ?” 

Lucas frowns. 

“We could, but...I feel like it’s predictable. And...even though most of them hate cops, we never know...we could be recognized and betrayed. That place is full of bounty-hunters, and if they go more aggressive with their manhunt...or if people think we’re bringing the cops to their door...and I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of being trapped underground if we’re actively being chased.”

“So we need to leave the city.”

  
  


Lucas says nothing for a moment. Then he sighs.

  
  
  


“I don’t like it, it feels like defeat. We started something and leaving now… But...I think that’s the best option, right now. Me being the punching ball, it's a distraction from the movement, and I'm easy to hate. I mean, the press has been harping on about bad terrible no good Persephony for years." He sounds very tired. "We need to win people over now, even the doubters. So the best thing for me to do now is probably to leave. Most people probably don’t know me in the countryside, I know for a fact that the media out there is very different, the city controlled channels are just Fates propaganda and they never show gods that aren’t good little puppets, and a lot of people don’t even have access to a television or whatever.” He sighs. It's a very pessimistic assessment but he's probably right. “I’ll ask if someone in the gods group chat has an idea of where could be a safe place to go.”

“Oh the gods have a group chat now, huh ?” Eliott laughs.

“How else are we going to plan the revolution ?” Lucas answers, busy on his phone. A few minutes later, he has an answer. 

“Basile’s grandpa has a farm a few hours’ drive away from here. He says the village he lives in is nice and safe, and he goes on vacation with his wife there each year. They’re not the type to gossip, and apparently…” he frowns. “His grandpa could use the company. Hm. Don’t really want to spend my time oldie-sitting, though.” 

“Don’t be so antisocial,” Eliott chides him. “Of course we can spend some time with a nice old man who opens his home to us in times of trouble. It will leave us plenty of time to do other things.”

“Well, you can be the one rocking his chair and washing his dentures or whatever, I’ll just...I don’t know. Walk in the forest. Commune with the elements. Braid flowers into my hair. Befriend a flock of cute rabbits.”

Eliott laughs. “You’re really not feeling this countryside thing, huh.” He’s happy Lucas seems to take it in stride, instead of focusing on the ‘returning to a place of former trauma’ thing. Even though, well...it’s not like they’re returning to his former village. Hopefully, it will be as nice a place as Basile claims it is.

“What are you talking about, I’m super stoked to have to go on the run from my own life, again.” He replies, tone deadpan. Then he turns towards Eliott, more serious. “You must know that feeling, huh.” 

“Well...yeah. I’m going to miss my pajamas, but there’s a reason why I’ve never really liked to...accumulate possessions. Like, after the fifth time I had to run and leave everything behind…”

“I’m sorry. That’s...it feels so…”

  
  


“Yeah. Well, you get used to it after a while. But it makes everything feel...I don’t know. Insubstantial.”

They sit a moment in silence. Reflecting. They both knew something would happen, and yet...and it’s not like he’s been having a stable life for very long anyway, and yet...For a moment, living with Lucas, it was so easy to get lost in this domestic fantasy. This morning only, Lucas was making waffles for them, and they were lounging in the sun, and for a moment, he is washed over by a wave of irrepressible longing for things to return as they were. If only for a few seconds...he truly felt home. 

  
  


…

  
  


Basile has promised to help them escape the city without being found out. And so, after driving a lot of circles around the city until they were sure they lost their tail - maybe the protective bubble was making it difficult for any tracking spells to work - they drive into a dodgy parking lot, where they find themselves greeted by both Basile and Daphné, climbing out of a sturdy, beat up agricultural truck, with red paint flaking off, and the back...full of rolled up hay. The protective charm doesn't become opaque again, probably not detecting any threats or enemies.

Basile shows them a hidden compartment under the hay - apparently the truck used to belong to an alcohol smuggler in which they’re supposed to hide so they can pass the city gates unnoticed. 

“This is a foolproof solution, he’s used it for twenty years and he’s never been arrested, he’s just retired now because of his bad eyes, he kept getting into accidents and losing the produce. Well, that’s what he said, maybe he was just drinking it. But anyway ! Don’t worry, plenty of space and air to breathe and I even added a few cushions.”

He makes an extravagant bow as they crawl in, and closes the compartment behind them. 

The cushions help, but it’s not much in the way of comfort. 

...

"Fuck, is it just me or does it smell like piss," Lucas grumbles once they're underway. 

Eliott sniffs a little. “No, I think it’s alcohol mixed with hay.”

“Ugh. That’s what I get for not taking a vacation in years. The vacation is forced on me.” 

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad. And maybe this is exactly what we need. A place to lay low, take our time. Figure that curse thing out, your powers, everything we can do when we connect, that sort of stuff. Take it easy for a bit - it was nice when we were in the Underground, right ?” 

“I hate laying low.” Lucas responds, his voice tense. “Especially when they’re busy dismantling what I have spent my life building and ruining my reputation and I can’t do shit about it and instead I get stuck hiding in a piss-smelling truck. I can’t believe I once threw a tantrum about having to sit in economic class on a plane once.”

“Karma is a bitch, huh ?” 

Lucas scowls at him in the dark. “Your lack of sympathy is duly noted.” 

“What are you going to do, knock my pay down ?”

“Why, are there any more pajamas you need to buy ? What is it going to be this time ? Cartoon ducks ? Cartoon hamsters ? Cartoon porcupines ?”

“ _ You’re _ a porcupine,” Eliott retorts back, even though that is a very twelfth-grader level of response. 

Lucas laughs, tension slowly seeping out. Good. 

There’s something a little exciting about this, Eliott realizes, them fleeing the city in the secret compartment of a smuggler’s truck, slipping between their enemies’ fingers to an uncertain situation. It’s an adventure, and it is scary, but…

They’re together. And having to run isn’t that bad when you’re not running alone. 

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


After long hours of driving and a few much needed breaks, the truck finally comes to a halt, and they’re let out for the final time. As they crawl out of their hiding hole and stretch their limbs, and take in their surroundings - a set of lovely farm buildings surrounded by lush greenery, a tractor, and a flock of sheep in a pasture on the left - a man in his late sixties comes out and marches towards them with an energetic gait, and a big smile. 

"Ah, there they are, my two newest workers !"

"Wait, what?" Lucas's face is something out of a slapstick comedy. 

...

As it turns out, there's been a bit of a miscommunication. Basile's grandpa is expecting them to help the many workers who already live in a little community on the farm. 

Lucas glares daggers at Basile before asking the old man, "Do you mind if we simply give you some money to rent a room ?" 

"Oh, no, this isn't a hotel ! It would be contrary to the spirit of this place. It was my Jeanette's dream - no monetary transactions, simply a seat at the table and a warm meal and bed for whoever was willing to lend a helping hand !" 

Eliott puts his hand on Lucas's shoulder and smiles. "I'm sure we can manage for a bit. Thank you for your hospitality, sir."

They're given a tour of the property and instructed in how to feed the chickens, pigs, sheep, dogs and goats, which will be their responsibility every morning and night starting on the next day. Then they're shown where they will sleep - two single mattresses among many in the attic of a barn - and invited to dinner downstairs in twenty minutes. 

As soon as they're alone, Lucas groans. "Seriously ? Is  _ this _ our fun vacation ?" 

"Oh, come on. It's way too late to find another safe place for tonight. And who knows, this could be fun ! We can just try tomorrow and if it really doesn't work for us, we can always ask if there are other accommodations in town, alright ?"

"I guess that makes sense," Lucas grumbles. "Ugh, why are you always so reasonable ?" 

Eliott can't help but ruffle through Lucas's hair with his hand. 

"One of us has to be."

"You're lucky you're so cute. Because I can tell you, this level of smug would be incredibly annoying on anybody else."

Eliott grins. 

"Come on, I know you like it. You love that I'm not taking your shit like everyone else."

Lucas narrows his eyes at him. "I take it back. You  _ are _ annoying."

Eliott takes a step closer. Truth be told, he's not being very reasonable at all right now.

"Really ?" 

Lucas's breath hitches up as they find themselves face to face, his pupils widening. For a moment, Eliott revels in the clear effect he has on him. 

"Really ?" He repeats. 

"Yes," Lucas finally says, voice breathy head tilted up, looking at Eliott's lips. "So fucking annoying." 

Eliott grins. "Look who's talking. Mr. Public Nuisance Number One himself."

"Well, you're my personal nuisance, then, and that's much worse." 

"I'm flattered."

"You - "

Lucas's response gets cut short by someone else walking into the attic, a tan muscular woman in her forties getting a sweater. 

"You guys coming? Dinner is starting."

Lucas blushes and steps away. 

It's not like they're doing anything wrong, Eliott wants to say, but instead he turns towards the woman to throw out a, "Sure, we'll be down in a minute." 

  
  


…

  
  


They find themselves sitting around a very long communal wooden table, on benches covered by sheep fur and illuminated by candlelight. They're served a hearty stew with sheep meat, vegetables from the garden and homemade chestnut bread. The conversation is lively ; Basile and Daphné have stayed over for dinner and the grandpa is telling tales about the mischief he got up to with his wife when younger. Some of the people at the table are young, roaming through the land with their friends before settling down, while some are older, more seasoned workers who have been here for a while. It's a great mix of people, relaxed and casual. He gets into a fascinating conversation with the girl next to him, a college student who is studying shrine ruins to the old gods that this land used to worship before the cult of the Greek gods was adopted by the biggest cities in the region and radiated out to the countryside, and staying in farms here and there as she goes.

Lucas is sitting in front of him, face glowing in the candlelight. He looks strangely timid, doesn't say much, replies in clipped sentences when addressed. It's strange to see him so subdued, Eliott muses.

He leaves the table early, walking back to the barn where they will sleep, and Eliott follows. 

"Are you okay ?"

Lucas shrugs. "It's weird. I can't help but feel like I'm back at the beginning."

"It's going to be fine. You'll figure it out. You did it once, you can do it again, right ? This is nothing."

Lucas looks at him with sad eyes, shrugging again. Eliott feels like he has said something wrong, but he doesn't understand what. But it's been a long day, and he doesn't have the energy to argue. 

They wash up in the common bathroom before crawling into bed, exhausted by the day, their mattresses separated by a thin ray of light.

  
  
  


…

  
  


His mind grows dark again with sleep. Again, this sensation of being trapped. This time, he walks in a narrow, dark tunnel, diffuse light coming from small holes in the walls. Muddy roots are hanging from the ceiling, hitting his face and tangling in his hair. But he doesn't want to stop, or turn around.

"I know what's happening." His mother's ghostly voice calls from behind his back. "You've grown soft."

He wants to tell her that it's not true, but there is a knot in his throat and he cannot speak up. 

"But you have always been, haven't you ? All my efforts to toughen you up when you were young failed. I foresaw that you would have a great destiny but that you would be too weak to face it. You would never be able to keep the Underworld under control. With you as Hades the dead would overrun the Earth. I was right to hide you." 

He keeps walking, faster and faster, hoping to lose her, but his movements are so slow. 

"It's not me you need to run from, it's your own dumb, sloppy heart," she continues. Was she ever this mean in real life ? "What do you think is going to happen if you stay close to him ? You're going to slip, and he's going to learn what a liar you are. Do you think he's going to welcome you with open arms once he learns the truth ? You're everything he's ever loathed."

"You're wrong," he says, his voice coming out so much weaker than he wants it to be.

"And it's not just Hades. It's you. Do you really think you're enough to make him forget your deathly nature ? You're a coward. A man of the shadows. You spent your life on the margins of society sleeping in barns and ditches. What do you think you have to offer to man of his class and ambition ? He thrives in the light while it makes you shrink. Even if neither of you were gods, you'd never be anything more to him than a pretty face fit for one night and then to be forgotten forever. He only likes you because fate has shackled you together."

He stops and turns, the words eating through his heart like acid.

His mother's face is a lot less ghostly than anticipated. Her sharp features are pale but her eyes are just as fierce as when she was alive. That makes it worse. He wishes it were a monster speaking those words ; they would be easier to dismiss. 

"You're wrong."

She laughs, scathingly. 

"I've never been wrong a day in my life. But you'll find out soon enough."

And he wakes up.

  
  


…

  
  


As he gets up, he struggles to keep the nausea down. The skies are grey, a weak drizzle falling down on their shoulders as they go outside to freshen to go into another barn where a table has been set. Some of the others are already preparing breakfast, oat porridge cooked slowly in water, served with honey, fresh cream and summer fruits. It looks good, but he barely eats, his stomach twisted into knots.

Lucas doesn't look like he had a good night either, but Eliott doesn't want to spend his time prodding him, doesn't want to be a nag. 

After breakfast, they go on to feed the animals, and there are a lot of feeding troughs and buckets to fill, so it takes them a long time. Enough time for Eliott's nightmare to play in his head again and again and again. It would be cute, Lucas surrounded and being jostled around by a flock of fluffy, unruly sheep, but right now, the worried downturned line of Lucas's mouth is the only thing he can really pay attention to. 

What _ is _ he doing ?

His ghostly dream mother was probably just the voice of his insecurities, but she wasn't entirely wrong.

He is risking so much now by staying so long. Their powers are starting to interact more and more. The curse could be lifted and he has a lot less of an excuse now. Except...Lucas really relies on him now, doesn't he ?

Does he ? Lucas's such a fiercely independent person. And Eliott knows himself to be unreliable. He's disappointed people before. Made friends on his travels he promised to keep in touch with and never did. Left without saying goodbye to people who had taken him in. Lied to people out of convenience. Broken promises. Like...a man of the shadows. Maybe Lucas shouldn't rely on him at all.

This is why his life used to be so empty, isn't it ? Those gnawing, insidious doubts. 

He gets what Lucas means. He, too, now, past the first thrill of adventure, feels like he went backwards. Two lost country boys, who went to the city to make their dreams come true, and the city spat them back. Even though, for Eliott, it wasn't that long ago, only a few months really. It's so strange - it feels like another lifetime. Before he met Lucas...he lived the existence of a ghost. Trying so hard to avoid the Underworld and it was still there, like an empty presence weighing heavy on his shoulders. He remembers Lucas telling him they would protect each other from the shadows, but is that fair to ask when he is the one bringing them into Lucas's life in the first place ? 

After a while, the rain becomes too strong so they wait it out under the awning of a smaller barn full of farm equipment. He looks at Lucas, hair plastered against his head and shivering and trying to put on a resolute face. 

"Hey, we're both sheep boys now," he tries to joke. 

Lucas looks at him blankly. 

"You know, that's what you said at the beginning…" He tries again.

"I get it, I'm an asshole," Lucas says, his voice short, and then he walks into the rain and leaves.

Eliott feels a moment of sheer panic, but it's paralyzing rather than a call to action. Yesterday morning, they were still a team, bathing in a strange pre-honeymoon glow, anticipation hanging sweetly in the air between them. 

And now...it feels like everything is slipping through his fingers. Falling apart. As if they've lost an entire language that was developing between them. It reminds him of when he saw Lucas walk towards his mother's ghost and he was utterly powerless to stop him. But this time...well, he can feel his own past breathing at his back. There is something so heavy about its pull, so hopeless.

He doesn't...want to go back to the way things were. Back when he was always lonely, tired, cold, hungry, paranoid. Always one step from falling back into the abyss.

But he doesn't know how to stop it from happening. He can see Lucas pulling back and he can't help but think he must see Eliott as a burden ; one of the reasons why he is in such trouble, maybe responsible for derailing his life, and - all he can think of is disappearing into thin air. 

Fuck. 

  
  


He's never hated his instincts so much.

  
  


…

Basile's grandpa gives him another task when the rain ceases - to remove the weeds in a small field of kohlrabi, their round and swollen stems bright purple and easy to distinguish. There is something about the work he finds soothing, having his hands in the earth, and there is no pressure to perform at a certain rhythm. He's done farm work earlier in his life, full time and then sporadically in exchange for room and board, and he knows that a lot of farms aren't this relaxed - many farmers are a lot harsher on their workers. So this is still on the good side of heavy effort, grounding without being backbreaking.

He could stay here, he thinks, when Lucas eventually leaves. Not for too long, because he wouldn't want to attract any Underworld energies, but…

It's a lovely place, the farm itself a collection of wooden barns and old stone buildings with slate roofs, the animals look happy and healthy, the countryside around them all rolling hills and lush vegetation, but…

The thought of staying behind makes him so sad. 

  
  


He tries to nudge at the godly part of him. Hades has been so quiet ever since the protest. Maybe because he's starting to use his powers more, and the boundaries are blurring.

After a while, he hears a rumble. 

  
  


_ Some things you have to figure out for yourself, little one.  _

And then nothing.

  
  


Eliott feels a flare of annoyance. Now that he  _ actually _ needs some guidance…

Maybe Hades had nothing new to say, really. Or maybe he's just as lost as Eliott is.

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


Later in the afternoon, the rain strikes again, and so they all seek refuge in the common room. Someone gets a fire going, and they all play board and card games. Eliott gets dragged into a strategy game by his new friend the college student, Arianna, along with some other people. Lucas remains apart, and sits himself in a rickety chair near the fire. 

While building up his roads and stocks of coin, and trying to keep up with the somewhat asinine details of the game, he can't help but sneak glances in Lucas's direction. 

His brow is furrowed, and the fire casts his face in a stark glow, the blue of his eyes almost green. There is something so striking about him, in that instant. He looks nothing like a flower goddess - if he had to guess without knowing, Eliott would have said he was one of the old elemental beings that shaped the world before the gods even got out of the crib, their names lost to time. 

A painful feeling strikes him at his core, smoldering, covetous - longing, desire, loneliness, worry, need so intense it's painful. He can do nothing about it. He's put himself in this situation. This is his own damn fault. Lucas is the man of his dreams, but he's never known how to make those come true. He spent his entire life giving up on his dreams.

  
  


So he just sits, and burns, quietly. 

  
  


He must be staring because eventually Lucas raises his eyes from the page, and looks directly at him. His gaze is...challenge, and anger, and a demand, and it's too much. Eliott can't deal with it. So he looks away.

The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance. 

Lucas puts his book down, and gets up, and walks out of the room. 

  
  


Something in Eliott feels dangerously unhinged. Unsteady. Like there is a hook in his heart and he can't help but be dragged along, flopping like a fish outside of water.

  
  
  


He drops his cards and his coins, and follows, not caring about the interpellations of the people he was just playing with.

  
  


Outside, the sun is fleeing behind the horizon, and the sky is a strange shade of yellow-grey purple, casting everything in a surreal, bruised light.

Lucas is disappearing into the trees at the far edge of the field. Eliott would yell at him, but he doesn't want to give Lucas the satisfaction of his lack of composure. He doesn't know what is going on but fuck - he can't deal with this. He needs to know. They need to talk.

So he quickens his pace. 

But he doesn't catch up. Did Lucas hear him ? He seems to be walking so fast he could be running. Eliott would have lost him if not for the fact that the path doesn't branch out, tracing through the forest in a single line.

_Fuck it_ , Eliott thinks, and he breaks into a run himself.

...

  
  


Five minutes later, he finds himself stopping to a halt, for the same reason that Lucas is now standing still on his left, back turned. A small river, flowing peacefully, dark underneath, and reflecting the last errant light in little trembling waves on the surface.

Lucas has his feet in the water, standing at the shallow edge amidst the rocks.

"Wow, you're in a rush to crash my pity party," he says, back still facing Eliott, emotion heavy under the irony.

"Lucas, what's going on ?" He tries to let his concern show in his voice.

Lucas turns around. His eyes are red. "What's going on is that I got a message this morning, from Jeremy. Apparently they froze all my assets. I'm a wanted criminal now. A traitor to the gods. And I guess...you're out of a job. Might wanna start sending your resume around."

Fuck. _Fuck._ Is Lucas trying to send him away ? Is that it ?

"I'm not leaving you."

"Warm feelings don't make the world go round, Eliott. I have nothing to offer to you anymore. Except the very real possibility of being locked up with me if you stay."

"I don't care about whether you have money or not. You're my friend !" 

"Then you're fucking stupid." He laughs, low and scathing, tearing through Eliott's heart as he does. "I'm fucking trapped on a sinking ship. I could get out of it,, sure, change my name, be the asshole again, carve a path for myself out of nothing in a different city - but they'd catch up with me eventually. There is no fucking point. And I'm tired, and I'm...I know there is so much more at stake, but here I am, sad about my money." He laughs, and this time, it's directed at himself. "I'm a fucking selfish asshole, and I'm a coward. I should face them, but I'm too fucking scared. I have nothing to offer you."

"You're not alone, Lucas." The idea that he feels he is is unbearable. "The rest of the gods care about you. Imane, too, and she is a powerhouse. And me, I'm - "

"I know you want to leave," Lucas cuts through. Eliott's heart falls apart in his chest. "I've always known. It's in your eyes every time I talk about the future. I thought that maybe, maybe I could change your mind, but…" he scoffs. "Who was I kidding. I don't deserve anybody sticking around. I'm stubborn, I'm needy, I'm too demanding, I'm a fucking nightmare, I -" His words are like an electric shock to Eliott. Suddenly, he realizes he could lose Lucas, for real. Not a vague anguish, or a moral consideration - something real, and right away, and definitive. And that's just....

No.

"You're my home." Eliott says, interrupting him, words breaking free from the weight in his chest, and shock blossoms on Lucas's face. And to be honest, this is not what he expected himself to say either. But it's true. These new feelings of stability, of warmth and intimacy and safety and domesticity he's been having, for the first time in his life - they're not tied to any place or situation, but to a person. "And I'm also scared, alright ? You're not alone. You have no idea... I...yeah, I thought I would leave for a while. Because I am a coward, too. Because my whole life I've been treated like a danger. And my mom, too, she…" He blinks, feeling his eyes go wet. Fuck. "She gave her life for me to be safe, but I can't…" He wipes his face with his hand, raw emotion spilling over. "She gave me all these rules to live by, she told me to always run and hide and keep my distance, because she thought I was weak and abnormal and dangerous and I…" Fuck, he's crying now. This is so embarrassing. Why is he making this about himself. Lucas steps closer, trying to comfort him.

"Eliott...you're the strongest person I know." His voice is a lot softer. 

But he shies away. If Lucas touches him, he will break. "I've been so scared and lonely and I…and then you, you came into my life and I...I can't fucking lose you, you hear me ? I'm not just...I'm not just here to protect you. You gave me something, too. You made me feel accepted and cared for and worthy of interest and you gave me a purpose and you...you made me feel like...like I had a future. You make me so fucking happy sometimes, I can't believe it. And you can't just take that away like it's nothing, you can't..."

"Eliott..." Lucas says, his voice upset. 

He takes a deep breath, and his eyes catch on the flow of the river, and in this raw and open state, it just happens. He feels  _ it _ . 

The world, all around him - every single atom, every little cell or creature or mote of dust, and it's breathtaking. Lucas's powers must be overflowing to him for some reason, he thinks, and for a moment he is lost in it - he is the trees, the earth beneath his feet, and the sky and all the birds that dance in the wind free and wild, and Lucas's smile, and the river…he could lose himself in this feeling, forever, because this is what he has always been looking for, his entire life, the harmony and gentle peace, the knowledge of being a part of the whole even though he doesn't have his own place - 

  
  
  


But no, 

  
  
  


wait.

  
  
  


There is something

  
  
  


he needs to do.

  
  


Say. 

  
  


For which he needs to be Eliott, 

  
  


and for the first time, 

  
  


he's not sorry.

  
  


He shakes off the trance and focuses his attention on a single point. 

"Fuck being scared," he says, voice rough. And it's the truest thing he's ever said. He feels a dam inside himself break, and clarity floods in.

  
  


His mother may have decided he was weak, but that was for her own reasons, not his. Same for all the people who ever were scared of him. It was convenient for them to see him like that. The scapegoat. The weakling. The problem. The justification for all their bloody issues. 

But he's so fucking tired of carrying all that weight. He can't do it anymore. 

  
  


He's let himself be chased around by his own ghosts even though he sent a thousand back to the afterlife - and the ghosts his mother pinned on him, her own fears, her need to make sure he would never leave her and her self imposed solitude, and then the idea of her, and he thought it was the only way to live, to honor her memory. And maybe she meant well, maybe she genuinely thought she was protecting him. But living like that, it only creates more ghosts. More pain and loneliness and the promise of vanishing from the world without having done anything worthwhile. Without ever having been truly alive. There is nothing strong about that. 

And that's something he's learned from Lucas, from watching him struggle against the instincts telling him to keep his life sterile and his heart ironclad, and making the choice to open up. To be brave, to trust others, to begin to change things - and to give Eliott a place in his life when he had no real reason to. Against a life time of solitude and bad habits. So people truly can change. And he wants to match that. He's tired of seeing himself as the one who can't, who runs and hides, who gives up.

He's got to decide what strength means for himself.

He closes his eyes an instant, a last moment of hiding before he speaks his truth. It's terrifying. And it feels so right. He sees it all so clearly now. He doesn't want to lose what he has found. Everything else pales in comparison. 

  
  


"I'm done letting the past rule me."

Lucas's eyes are crystal clear when he meets them again. Full of awe. "Yes," he whispers. 

  
  


Eliott takes one last breath.

  
  


"I'm in love with you, Lucas." The feeling is completely evident, even though maybe he wasn't entirely aware of it until he opens his lips. Screw the gods and the fates. This man is...his person. There is still so much they need to learn about each other, so much they could be together. Eliott needs him to know that. To know how loved he is. And how that is worth fighting for. "And I'm not going anywhere." 

He feels like he's just flung himself from the top of a mountain without any safety. And then Lucas replies, breathless, and he realizes it was all worth it. 

"I love you too, Eliott." His eyes are so wide, as if he doesn't entirely dare to believe it. "And I don't want you to go. I want you to stay with me."

Pure joy floods Eliott's entire being.

"I'm not going anywhere," he repeats. "Not without you. Wherever you go, I'll go."

He takes a step forward, and so does Lucas.

Maybe later he will feel happy ; all he feels now is incandescent. Like volcano fire surging from under the earth, like he is too big for his own body, like he is about to burst out of his own skin, shaken and overwhelmed. 

  
  


He's done running.

  
  


_ He loves me. _

_ And I love him _ .

So complicated, and yet in the end, so simple. 

He doesn't know who moves first ; but one moment they're standing there staring at each other, and the next, they're kissing. As if the world depended on it.

_ Fucking finally. _

Relief hits him like a wave. He doesn't even know if this is his own thought or Lucas's - all that matters, all that exists, is the feeling of Lucas's lips against his own, his tongue in his mouth, his body pressed against Eliott's, from zero to a hundred in a few seconds, all the energy of months of pining released in an instant. He becomes dimly aware that Lucas has  _ jumped on him _ , with his arms around his neck and legs around his waist, as his back hits the trunk of a tree and he almost keels over.

It's a kiss so hungry it becomes clumsy but he doesn't give a shit. It's the kiss he has been waiting for his entire life. Fucking cinematic, and everything else, the world shaking lose around them, his body on fire everywhere they're connected. Sheer bliss coursing through his veins, hissing  _ yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes - _

Fuck. He needs to tell Lucas the truth. About who he is. He knows the risks but he doesn't care anymore. It's all worth it. He trusts Lucas to forgive him. There's no way he would turn him in to the Fates. It can just be their little secret - and he can be whatever Lucas wants him to be, his secret consort hidden right under everybody's noses, his exorcist, his bodyguard, his boytoy, his accountant, his fucking interior decorator, whatever bullshit he wants to make up, he doesn't give a shit. He doesn't care about all the honors or the powers. All he wants is for Lucas to know who he is, inside and out.

He's done with hiding.

It takes a gargantuan effort to pull Lucas off him by the hair at the back of his neck.

"We need to talk, I -"

"Tomorrow," Lucas pleads, kiss drunk, voice urgent. "Tomorrow, you bloody tease, I can't fucking wait anymore, I -" Then he kisses Eliott again, too impatient even to talk, and Eliott loses himself in it again. When he tells him, Lucas might be angry for a while, but Eliott doesn't care anymore, he will crawl on broken glass if he has to for Lucas to forgive him. 

But maybe they deserve a night before that, where it's just them. Lucas and Eliott, together at last. And he can't resist Lucas now anymore than on the day he ordered Eliott to stay and work for him despite knowing how bad of an idea it was.

The kiss gets even more heated if that was even possible, slick lips bruising, tongues tangling together, and Lucas lets go of him, tumbling down to where Eliott has to curl over him to kiss him again, lifting his chin with a tender palm. 

Lucas's clever fingers seem to have other ideas, though, as they wrap themselves around Eliott's belt buckle. 

"I need you," he says, tone urgent. "I can't fucking take this anymore, I'm going to fucking die if you don't get inside me right this fucking instant."

Fucking drama queen, Eliott thinks, but he's never felt this alive. He's never been wanted like Lucas wants him, with every fiber of his being. It's overwhelming and it's the best thing ever.

"Yes, baby, yes," he whispers, and he puts his hands on Lucas's ass and pulls him in, grinding them together. They both moan, they're both rock hard already, and Eliott really agrees, they can't wait anymore, they really can't - 

As if on cue, the sky breaks and torrential rain starts pouring down on their heads, barely held back by the leaves.

Eliott groans.

"I don't care," Lucas says, panting, "the sky can go fuck itself, please, you - " he brings their mouths together again, rain making the kiss slippery, but he's never going to get enough of this, and it feels so right…

"Wait, wait." He pulls Lucas off again, blinks the water off his lashes. 

"You fucking…"

"No, look," he points, the vague hunch he had earlier confirmed. "There's a cabin over there." Further down on the edge of the river, hidden by foliage, but there is the unmistakable edge of a roof.

Lucas grumbles, evidently not convinced, so Eliott has to get out the heavy guns. 

"I don't want a five minute quickie against a tree," he growls into Lucas's ear. "I wanna take my time and fuck you so good you forget your own name." 

After that, it's easier to drag him along, and they splash through the edge of the river in a straight line to the cabin, water almost reaching to their knees as the rain keeps drenching them. By the time they've reached their objective, they're completely soaked through, but it's not as if their clothes are going to stay on much longer anyway.

The cabin is still whole and seems empty, thankfully, and it's bigger than they thought, maybe big enough to host a bed. The door, not so thankfully, is closed, but he focuses his powers and the metal lock shatters in its place. He tries not to think about it and it's very easy as the door swings open and they rush inside. He finds a switch and a little yellow-orange light bulb flickers on under an old lampshade in the corner.

God, yes - there's a bed, and it's dry, and that's the only thing he cares about. 

The next instant is a mad rush to get rid of their clothes. Soon, they're blessedly naked and Lucas pushes him onto the bed, and follows, expanse of soft humid skin against Eliott's a disorienting luxury after being touch starved for what feels like decades. 

"Gods, fuck, baby, you feel so good," he babbles as his hands go wild, trying to touch Lucas in as many places as possible, now that he finally can.

"Shut up and fuck me," Lucas says, voice probably more whiny and less bossy than he wants it to sound.

Eliott rolls them around, landing himself on top, and laughs. He runs his hand through Lucas's hair and tilts his head back, exposing his neck.

"So demanding," he chides, before bowing down and sucking Lucas's tender skin into his mouth, fully intent on leaving a mark. Lucas whimpers, arching up in search of more friction, but Eliott uses his other hand to press his chest down, finding a thrill in denying him one last time.

Yeah, he  _ is _ a tease. 

He can own that. And Lucas is so damn fun to tease, he thinks, as he moves down from Lucas's neck to his chest, licking and sucking at his nipples until they harden in his mouth. He is just as responsive as Eliott thought he would be, shivering under his every touch.

"Fucking hell, can you just…" Lucas swears, hands scrabbling against Eliott's back to pull him closer, but Eliott pushes them off. 

"Sorry baby," he laughs, "but you're not the boss of me anymore, are you ?" 

Lucas lets out a noise of protest. "Eliott, you fucking…" 

He laughs into Lucas's skin, right before licking a stripe up from his belly button to his sternum. 

"Hmm ?" 

Lucas exhales, the order in his voice turned to pure need. "Ok, alright. Please. I've been waiting for this my entire life." 

Eliott laughs in disbelief. Fuck. It's melodramatic as fuck and...wow, does it ever work for him. He can't see Lucas's face but if there is one thing he absolutely can't resist, it's sincerity. The thought has all his nerves strung so tight they would sing if touched, so he kisses Lucas's underbelly one last time, tenderly, and feeling it tighten under his lips as he whispers,  _ me too. _ Then he takes Lucas's cock in hand and guides the head into his mouth.

Lucas cries out, and his legs fall open as Eliott swirls his tongue around the swollen flesh, lapping at the taste of his arousal, before taking him in deeper. He tastes like nobody Eliott's ever had in his mouth before, sweeter, like nectar, like it could become addictive. It sends pulses of desire down his whole body, coalescing heavy between his legs. 

He moves his hand lower, then, across warm wet skin until he finds the little pucker between Lucas's legs, teases again, and pushes in. Just the tip of a finger, rubbing against so many sensitive nerve endings, is enough to make Lucas's body shudder, buck up. Pushing deeper into Eliott's mouth, hitting the back of his throat. Eliott wants to make him come, it's so intoxicating, holding him like this, but that's not what Lucas asked for. 

He relents. Fuck, if they don't have what they need...

"Why did you stop," Lucas croaks. 

"Do you have a condom ?"

"'M a god, don't get STDs. Lube's in my coat pocket." 

Eliott leaves the warmth of his soon-to-be-again lover with regret to go rummage on the floor through their cold sodden clothes until he finds a little plastic bottle.

There are a thousand jokes to be made about Lucas just wandering around with lube in his pocket while going out to do farm work, and how he was somehow expecting this to happen at any time, but they all die in his throat when he sees Lucas splayed on the bed waiting for him. With his wet hair and his wet dream body, one lip between his teeth and the other plush and red, one arm thrown behind his head and the other around his dick, jerking himself off slowly, movements hypnotic. Eyes hooded as he follows Eliott's movements.

Eliott's head floats as he falls to his knees between Lucas's open legs. He can't believe he gets to have this, again, and this time, it means so much more. 

He lowers himself onto his elbows to kiss Lucas again. 

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he says between two kisses. Lucas wraps his arms around Eliott's neck again like they belong there but still scoffs. 

"Don't need to sweet talk me, I'm already in your bed." 

"I'll always need to sweet talk you, my sweetheart," Eliott replies, kissing him deep, pushing his tongue into Lucas's mouth, stroking and licking, letting his hands wander down to replace Lucas's own. 

Lucas's dick is hard and dripping in his hand as he coaxes him on with firm strokes. Eliott can feel him struggling, between the need to surrender and the reflex to take charge. The truth is he loves bossy Lucas, he does, but he also thinks he often does that as a way to keep people at a distance and he wants to offer him a different option.

Eliott has a feeling he's not used to affection in these circumstances. And neither is he, really. And yet all he wants is to make Lucas feel good, feel loved, feel  _ cherished _ . Let him feel that this is  _ not _ a one night stand.

He cups his face to kiss him one last time before lubing up his fingers. And then he pushes one in again, tentative, Lucas taking him in greedily, to the first and second knuckle, legs falling further apart. He adds another, scissoring motions to prepare him, but there isn't far to go to get him loose and ready. He's so turned on Eliott can practically feel him vibrate under his touch.

"Please, Eliott, fuck me," Lucas begs again, neediness overcoming self-consciousness, and his tone matches the desperation burning in Eliott's guts.

He slicks himself up quick, holding himself up on one hand as he uses the other to line himself up, straining with the effort. 

They hold eye contact as Eliott pushes in, blue steel and fluttering eyelashes, as he feels Lucas's tight ring of muscles contract at the intrusion before letting him in. Lucas's gasp is almost an exhale of relief and he knows what it means -  _ finally, finally. _ Eliott goes deeper in the second thrust, sinking into welcoming heat, and Lucas clamps a hand on the back of his neck, pulling Eliott closer, until he feels Lucas's breath on his lips.

"Fuck, I missed you," Lucas whimpers into his mouth.

Fuck, this feels so good he already feels on the verge of losing it.

He takes a deep breath and stills for a moment. He's been waiting for this forever but he doesn't want it to be over so quickly, so he lets the sharp pleasure coming over him like waves ebb and settle into a banked fire. Control is easier to find than he thought it would be, down to that part of him that is calm, patient, focused.

And then he goes for it. He sinks himself all the way in, in one powerful thrust, punching a long moan out of Lucas's mouth. 

This is nothing like the last time. Last time they were strangers, and Eliott just wanted a warm body to forget the loneliness gnawing at his heart. They both did, he can guess, even if maybe knowing Lucas it was more just a thing he did back then and the connection was a surprise. But now it's Lucas he wants, just him. And he knows it's reciprocal, knows Lucas almost never lets anyone else in like this, body or mind, and…

Fuck, it's such a trip. He hasn't let himself hope, tried his hardest to stop himself from lusting after Lucas, but now, being  _ inside him _ , he can feel the months of pent up frustration release in his body, mixed with incredible gratitude. 

"Please, Eliott, move," Lucas asks him, breathless. He wraps his legs and arms around Eliott's neck and back, drawing him in, urging him on.

He does, slowly building up a rhythm with his thrusts, and the cabin fills with obscene sounds of slick friction and slapping flesh, his own loud breaths and the moans Lucas is letting out, increasingly shameless.

He can't help but hope their run took them as far from the farm as he remembers. Because this is going to be a noisy night.

Everything is so raw and intense but for the first time in his life he doesn't want to shy away from it, he wants to lean into that intensity, that intimacy, until it burns away every single last shred of shame inside him. He wants to believe himself capable of real love, real devotion. 

"I love you so fucking much," he whispers. 

Lucas answers, words slurring, "Fuck, me too, you feel so good, I - ah, ah, ah -"

It's so good not having to hold back anymore, after all the teasing and pining and doubting, and Lucas encourages him even further.

"Harder, please, fuck me harder."

He has a sudden burst of inspiration, and pulls out for a moment, Lucas keening with the loss, before pulling him down lower by the waist, grabbing a pillow and placing it under Lucas's ass, then hitching his thighs up by the knees until he's almost folded under Eliott, and can hook his legs over Eliott's shoulders. His eyes widen a little at the manhandling, but he is obviously very into it, hitching his ass up to present himself to Eliott. He drives himself back into Lucas's willing body, feeling him shake as he does. Like this, he can go so much deeper, right away, and it's fucking incredible. 

Lucas uses his hands to pull him in closer, forcing the fold of his own body further, ankles almost at his ears. And fuck, he'd known Lucas was flexible, but that…along with the way his inner walls contract around Eliott's cock like a vise, are almost enough to make him lose it again. He groans and closes his eyes, seeing stars as Lucas tightens around him. 

He drags his cock out and then slams it back in, and like this, he grazes Lucas's prostate almost immediately, making him howl in pleasure. The bed starts to rattle in its metal frame as he picks up the pace, hammering mercilessly at Lucas's sweet spot.

"Fuck, yes, baby, like that, yeah, ah, ah, please -" He loves how vocal Lucas is, he loves everything about him, fuck, he's so in love…

Gods, this is everything.

The world around them starts to blur together, as they melt into a core of red hot pleasure and Eliott finds it more and more difficult to figure out where he ends and Lucas begins, every sweet sigh and cry out of Lucas's mouth pulled from his own heart, every shiver of pleasure shared. Power is coiling in his belly and humming over Lucas's skin, and flowing everywhere around them, saturating the air along with the smells and sounds of their lovemaking. The lamp in the corner dies in a shower of sparks but even in the moonlit dark he can instinctively feel the outline of Lucas's body perfectly, as he rocks in and out of him at an almost furious pace, making him swear and plead so sweetly. It's as if his whole body is singing, with pleasure and exertion, and with the rightness of it all, like it knows that this is what he was made for, and no one can ever take that knowledge away from him now. 

He feels his climax rush towards him like a freight train and he knows he is powerless to stop it. So he does his best to drag Lucas along with him, grabbing his cock and making him cry out in overstimulation, timing his pulls along with his thrusts, and it's only after Lucas lets out a sharp cry and comes all over his own torso and face that the wave hits him. How did he not notice how beautiful Lucas was in the throes of pleasure, the first time ? He must have been fucking blind. This, it's like a revelation. His own climax overtakes him, resetting everything inside him, like flying for the first time, as he comes in long pulses, buried deep inside Lucas's ass and closer to perfect bliss than he's ever been in his entire life.

...

It's only when Lucas makes a noise of discomfort that he regains an awareness of his surroundings, and realizes that the position must be, hm, well, uncomfortable for Lucas. So he immediately pulls out, carefully, and then helps Lucas slowly get out of the folded position until he's lying back down on the bed. 

"Are you okay, baby ?" He asks softly.

"Holy shit," Lucas responds. "Are you kidding me, am I ok ? That was so fucking good." 

"Yeah, it really was." Eliott agrees. Lucas looks like a complete mess, face red, wild hair, all sweaty and covered in come, and he's so fucking gorgeous. Eliott can't help but reach down and set to licking his face clean, feeling filthy and proud and affectionate all at once, relishing the salty-sweet taste on his tongue. 

"You're disgusting," Lucas mumbles with a delighted smile, not pushing him away, and letting him work until his chest and face are almost completely clean. 

Once he's done, he looks around the cabin and sees an old little sink in the corner. Thankfully, water comes out of the faucet. He is pretty sure this cabin was inhabited recently given how musty it doesn't smell. He lets the water run for a moment before finding an old mug, rinsing it and filling with water, tasting it to make sure it doesn't taste funky. It doesn't, so he brings it back to their little nest, and gives it to Lucas, before going back and downing one for himself.

That was some pretty intense exercise, honestly. They must have lost a lot of fluids. 

As he finally lies back down against Lucas, he feels way too buzzed to sleep, sheer joy coursing through his veins.

After five or so minutes spent in a post coital haze, Lucas asks, 

"Wanna go again ?" 

"Wow, really ? Are you sure you can take it ?"

"I'm a god," Lucas smirks at him, glowing in the moonlight. "I don't get sore." 

Damn. Eliott can already feel himself get hard again at the thought. 

…

  
  


The second time, they take it easier, and the third time, even more so, Eliott using his own come as lube to slick up Lucas's loosened hole before taking him from behind as they lie in a spooning position. Lucas grinds back into him, slowly, and Eliott loses his face in Lucas's hair and himself in the smell and feel of him. It takes them forever to reach orgasm, this time, but it's the sweetest kind of forever he can imagine.

  
  


…

  
  


When he emerges from what feels like the best sleep of his life, the next morning, it's to a familiar sight. 

Lucas's soft, sleeping face, pillowed on his arm. And all around them, flowers. 

Wilder than the last time, he notices. Tulips with multicolored petals shaped like flames, hyacinths, lilies, dahlias like floral fireworks, narcissus with their sunny crowns, flowers he doesn't even know the name of, covering the entire bed, and the floor, too, bushes of lilac and rhododendrons. And then he notices the walls and ceilings too, covered in blossoming climbing plants, jasmine and wisteria and honeysuckle - and right above their heads, a cloud of roses, white with a light pink heart. 

Birds are singing, he can hear the babbling of the stream in the background, and he feels ...at peace. Miraculously so.

He feels a deep, satisfied rumble in his chest.

_ Well done, little one. _

Yeah. For once, him and his godly counterpart are in perfect agreement. 

He pulls Lucas in closer, warm and pliant against him, and he goes back to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY huh also it's all about the weather metaphors yeah yeah
> 
> next chapter : long awaited sweetness


	14. Chapter 13 : Lucas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> days so sweet you won't believe them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, yeah, this chapter is so sweet I gave myself a toothache writing it. It's almost all fluff. Almost.
> 
> I would say they deserve it though. 
> 
> content warnings : lots of smut //

Lucas wakes up in a dream.

He is warm, cheek against soft skin, sweet smell of flowers in the air. And he feels wonderful. 

He can feel Eliott's slow, steady heartbeat where they're joined. He's lying half on top of him, head on his chest, one arm and leg thrown over his, and Eliott's arm is cradling him tightly. The close contact has his body in a state of languid, melting satisfaction. He feels made of honey, of spun sugar and velvet, and if he could purr, he would.

Flashes of yesterday saturate his mind. Eliott saying  _ I'm in love with you, Lucas. _ Kissing under the rain.  _ Fuck bring afraid.  _ It has paid off beyond all of his hopes, he thinks.

The one of his hands that is laying on Eliott's chest, inevitably, gets curious, and starts exploring the expanse of skin at its disposal like it's Lucas's new kingdom. Tracing the outline of a torso, the faint feeling of ribs, silky skin, and higher up, a little bud he flicks playfully. 

A noise somewhere between a grumble and a laugh rises from below him, and a thrill runs through Lucas's veins at the knowledge that Eliott is awake.

He feels a hand run along his back, possessively, and he shivers. Gods, but he loves the Eliott he discovered last night, all passionate declarations, _take charge and give you the ride of your life_ Eliott. He loves all of him, but that one...Lucas hopes to see more of him.

He blinks, and opens his eyes to a colorful world.

Flowers absolutely everywhere. This time, he is less surprised. It seems to be a thing, then. For some reason, having sex with Eliott causes him to burst into flowers during sleep afterwards. 

Oh well.

This time, he can't be too bothered, since Eliott is very much solid and real under him and he has not ran away. And it is very picturesque, honestly. Not just demure little early spring flowers anymore - he can see lupines, peonies, dahlias, foxgloves, lilies...all in full bloom, an explosion of colors, as if someone robbed a florist for their sweetheart and put everything on display at once. And then roses hanging above their heads...perfect. He really outdid himself this time. He can't see one bit of the original cabin visible under the greenery. And it is poetic as hell, to be lying in a little cocoon of flowers with his lover. 

_ Eliott, my lover.  _

It's such a lovely concept.

He loves that this is his life, right now, no matter the peripheral turmoil. Suspended time, the world outside muffled and unreal. Here, it's just them, and flowers, and new love unfolding, this newfound intimacy like a revelation. And ease. Has he ever been at ease in his entire life ? Has breathing ever felt this easy ? 

He looks up, and finds that Eliott is looking at him.

"Hey, you," he says, his voice scratchy with sleep. 

"Hey," Lucas responds, and for a moment they just smile at each other.

Then he moves, because the twist of his neck is uncomfortable and he wants to look at Eliott properly, until he's straddling him on elbows and knees and oh - 

Yeah, alright. So he may have been bragging yesterday when he said gods don't get sore. He's got better stamina and he recovers more quickly than most mortals but he can definitely feel the consequences of yesterday.

He is still a Greek god's earthly incarnation, though, so hubris is definitely in his prerogative.

He looks down. He could swoon at the sight of Eliott laid out under him, hair wild and eyes half-moons, blissful smile directed at him. No, scratch that - he is very much swooning. Swooning is all he will do from now on.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well ?" Lucas asks, tone playful.

"Yeah." Eliott replies. "I had the nicest dreams."

"Really ? Was I in them ?"

"Of course." Eliott strokes his back with the tip of his fingers, raising goosebumps on his skin. "I dreamt of yesterday." He brings one of his hands back to caress Lucas's face with his knuckles and then a thumb. "And then I dreamt I woke up, and we would pick up where we ĺeft off." He smiles even wider. He looks at Lucas as if he were a work of art. "It was nice."

Damn.

"I bet." Lucas replies, and then reaches up, grabbing a stem holding several roses and shaking it, making petals come lose and flutter down. They land all over Eliott, on his chest, face and hair and around him on the pillow and just...wow. His inner aesthete is extremely pleased right now. 

"This is very beautiful," Eliott says, brushing away the petals that fell on his face, and then cups Lucas's cheek with his hand, "but you're still the most beautiful flower in the room." And then he brings them together for a kiss, pulling Lucas down and meeting him halfway.

Damn, damn - Eliott really is the only motherfucker on this planet who can get away with calling him a pretty flower, but fuck. He likes it. He melts into the kiss, sinking down until he is plastered against Eliott, laying on top of him. It reminds him of how extremely naked they both are. 

Eliott smooths his palms down his back, and then firmly grabs his asscheeks, making Lucas's dick stir with interest. He loves the familiarity with which Eliott touches him, the lack of hesitation, more fitting to long time lovers than to people who just fell into bed for the second time. It's as if the almost-platonic intimacy they've been building over months of being constantly at each other's side is simply expanding into this new territory for their relationship. 

Good to know all that cuddling was good for something besides making him almost lose his mind several times. 

It's almost uncanny, though, the way Eliott seems to be attuned to his desires. Last night was the best sex of his life, he can say so without any hesitation, and well - he's been around, extremely so. Which is ...a bit unsettling, in a good way. Maybe he'd had this idea in the back of his mind still that sex with feelings would be...a bit more sedate. Boring, even. 

Maybe this stems back to the only time he actually tried. Georges had this habit of being very rigid about what specific type of sex they were to have. Romantic had to be after a proper date, surrounded by candles and cheesy music, slow and in the missionary position. Lucas had almost fallen asleep several times in those situations. And then sometimes he'd wanted it rough, using Lucas's body to get off without a single gesture of affection, barely even kissing. In both cases, it was never really about what Lucas actually wanted. It's really baffling to him, in retrospect, how he was ever able to mistake what they had for true love. Maybe he'd been desperate, so he'd just tried to fit into the vague idea of what a relationship should look like with the first rando who had given him the time of day.

And now he's got Eliott, who fucked his brains out while whispering sweet words of devotion, and it's almost too good to be true, honestly. 

Eliott's hands continue their inspection, fingers dipping into the crease of his ass until they brush lightly against his hole, still puffy from their earlier exertions, and he can't help but let out a small whimper as Eliott presses against it a little more insistently.

Eliott chuckles softly and relents. "Gods don't get sore, huh ?" 

Is he making fun of Lucas for biting off more than he can chew ? 

"Don't look so goddamn proud of yourself," he chides. Part of him wants to sink back onto Eliott's cock right then and there just to prove that he can, but he's not so horny yet that it confines him to stupidity. 

Eliott smirks. "Why, do you have any complaints about my services ?" 

Ugh. 

He's supposed to be the smug one.

Ideas start to form in his brain about how to show him up. "No, but - ah !"

His words and thought processes are interrupted, when Eliott grabs his hips and angles him so that their dicks brush against each other. After that, his brain turns to mush very quickly, and he is reduced to rutting against Eliott. Then Eliott wraps his big hand around the two of them, tightening and loosening it in rhythm as he pulls up and down. He's clearly set his mind to efficiency, and the delicious friction and pressure quickly becomes heavenly, bringing Lucas close to climax in a matter of minutes. 

"Please, fuck me." His mouth goes, starting to get disconnected from his brain. 

Eliott laughs softly, the asshole. "Don't think that's a good idea, baby." 

"Please !" He knows it would hurt but in that instant all he can think about is getting Eliott's massive cock back inside him and keeping it there, possibly forever.

Eliott grazes the head of their cocks and then reaches around, finding Lucas's hole again with precome slickened fingers. When he pushes back inside, Lucas feels a bit of triumph with a little edge of pain, but he forgets that immediately as Eliott finds his prostate and starts caressing it from the inside, turning Lucas's mind inside out with pleasure. He moans and leans his forehead on Eliott's sternum - gods, he feels lost in him, and it's so good.

"I love you," Eliott whispers, and Lucas loses it, whiting out and coming in thick stripes over his chest. 

After a moment of being lost in pleasure, he realizes Eliott's still hard under him, but when he tries to wrap his hand around his shaft, Eliott pushes him away. 

"It's okay," he says, "Let's keep that for later."

Wow. Lucas has no idea where he gets that level of inhuman control from, but there is something so fucking hot about a man that focuses on your pleasure to the point of self-denial. Damn. 

"Wanna go for a swim?" 

Actually, that might be a really, really good idea, seen as they're all gross and sticky. 

He regretfully separates himself from Eliott to go look for their boxers on the ground under the flowers, which takes some pulling.

Eliott makes a face when Lucas gives him his. They're still wet and...very unappealing to get into. 

"Is that necessary ? I doubt anyone will see us." 

"Well, we don't want to flash some innocent hikers by accident, do we ? Also," Lucas grins, "your naked ass is mine only to see now."

Eliott bites his lip. "Alright," he sighs, wincing as he steps into the boxers and rolls the wet cloth back over his still erect dick, outline of it still completely visible. "There, better now ?" 

Okay, there is nothing about him that isn't obscene to look at, right now. Lucas feels yet another rush of warmth as he puts on his own. This time, it takes him a lot of self control to not tumble Eliott back into the bed. But the inside of the cabin is starting to getting hot and stuffy, and the idea of fresh water feels very appealing right now. As is the idea of a wet almost naked Eliott glistening in the sunlight. "Eh, good enough," he shrugs.

The door is also covered in vegetation, so it takes him a moment to convince the plants to let them step through - but his powers are flowing so easy now, it's no bother at all. And then he steps outside. It's warm and lovely weather, all the clouds from yesterday dissolved in the night and the sky is a radiant blue. It feels like one of the first days of true summer.

Eliott steps out after him, laying a small kiss on his shoulder as he passes him by. Fuck, he's going to kill Lucas with those little gestures of casual intimacy.

The river has swollen during the night with all the rain, and they can't just step in, that might be dangerous. But they walk upstream for a bit and find a little cove, sheltered by a body of rocks advancing into the river, where the water is a bit deeper and stiller.

Eliott wades in first, cautious. "It's okay, the ground seems mostly made of rocks, nothing slippery." 

Aw, did he test it out for Lucas ? That's so goddamn cute. 

Lucas sees a big rocky outcropping advancing over the water, though, and that's an opportunity he can't miss. He climbs up, and then cannonballs into the deepest water. It's still cold, and it shocks him into alertness as he emerges to take a big gulp of air

Eliott looks at him from closer to the shore, slightly bemused. 

"Are you afraid of the water or something?" Lucas asks, playful.

Eliott rolls his eyes and then dives into the water in one smooth, powerful move, barely making a ripple. Lucas watches, with a hint of trepidation and some anticipation, as his pale form slides towards him under the surface, letting out a yelp as he feels Eliott's hands around his waist, and then he's pulled under. 

For a moment all he sees is dark and cold ; then Eliott's beautiful face surrounded by bubbles ; then Eliott pushes his lips against Lucas's briefly in a flash of a kiss, and then he's being pushed upwards again. 

They emerge at the same time, Lucas spluttering and Eliott taking big gulps of air.

"Cheater !" 

"I didn't know we were playing a game," Eliott says nonchalantly, still holding Lucas. 

Lucas wraps his thighs and legs around Eliott, pushing slightly to get the higher ground before kissing him. Like this, he can feel that Eliott's erection has flagged, sadly, but he's pretty sure he can remedy that, tracing it out with his hands.

"Fuck," Eliott swears into his mouth, "how are you so horny all the time ?"

Lucas giggles. "Spring is mating season, baby. Why, do you have any complaints?"

"No," Eliott replies, "I just want to know what you need. So I can worship you like you deserve."

Oof.

Whatever game they're playing...honestly, they're both winning.

  
  


…

  
  


They keep playing, kissing and just enjoying the water for a moment, but then Eliott points out that Lucas's lips are getting blue. So they lay down on two bigger stones, basking in the sun, to dry off, and make their way back to the little cabin.

"Do you think they noticed we were gone ?" Lucas asks.

"Yeah, probably. I'm surprised nobody came looking for us." Eliott winces. "Maybe they did and they found us, uh. Busy."

Oh gods. He's not usually too precious about these things, but this is the countryside, and they never know…

"Maybe we should just not go back."

"All our phones and stuff are there." Eliott says pragmatically. 

"I can buy new stuff." Lucas says, before remembering that no, he can't. Thinking about these things is a very unwelcome intrusion in the wider world in their little bubble of bliss. "Oh, whatever." 

He walks back into the cabin and retrieves their gross, wet clothes from the ground, to hang them outside so they can dry, too.

"I may be poor now but I will be damned before I actually put soggy clothes back on."

Eliott smiles as he helps out, stretching his pants along a low hanging hazelnut branch, but he's obviously not paying attention as the hems are dragging in the mud. Lucas sighs and corrects his work. "Let me guess, you used to be the rough and ready type. " 

"Sure, I used to only change pants twice a month. They would stand on their own when I got them off." He laughs. Lucas can't tell if he is kidding or not. "Hey, can you blame me for being distracted ?" He brushes something out of Lucas's hair. 

Well, he managed to hang the rest of their clothes without dragging them in the mud while Eliott was standing there looking like an almost naked sex god so yes, he can, but also he really enjoys the idea of being this distracting.

He sighs. "You're lucky you're so pretty." 

Eliott raises his eyebrows. "Are you calling me useless ?" 

"No ! Just a little bit rough around the edges." 

"Ah ! Thought you liked that." He's stepped closer again, and tips Lucas's chin up. 

Lucas's brain comes up with a clever retort, no doubt, but he gets lost in Eliott's eyes halfway there. 

"I do," he sighs.

"Mh-hm." Eliott hums, brushing the edge of Lucas's jaw with his thumb. "But you can still teach me manners, if you want."

Gods, he loves the way Eliott holds his face with his hands sometimes, it makes him feel so...precious. Is this what it is like to be in love, Lucas wonders - a game of who gives the most, a perpetual spring of new generosity. He's never been this eager to please someone else - at the same time, he instinctively knows Eliott would never ask too much of him, or take something he wasn't really ready to give. He knows Eliott is just as overwhelmed by this. It makes him feel...strangely fragile, and strong, all at the same time. 

"You're perfect just the way you are." Lucas says, in earnest. "My sheep boy." 

It's true. All that bitching he did in the beginning about Eliott's lack of proper form or clothes...it was just because he didn't know how to deal with his burgeoning, troubling feelings. There is something so naturally elegant about Eliott ; he would still look graceful naked and half streaked in mud...well, like right now, sort of. Lucas cannot imagine a situation in which he would not be breathtaking. 

Eliott smirks. "Right back at you."

He knows it's a pique, but Lucas finds it strangely touching. Yes, he has a strange intuition that Eliott would have found him, and loved him, even if he had stayed in his village his whole life, selling cut wildflowers by the wayside, his ailing mother in tow. He would have loved Lucas if he wasn't a god, even. 

Maybe it's ridiculously soon for this, but this is the kind of bond he feels between them. And his heart feels so full in that instant.

"Make love to me," he asks, breathlessly, caring little for how corny he sounds. 

Eliott doesn't joke, then - he simply swoops Lucas off his feet and, in a bridal carry, brings him back to their bed among the flowers.

…

Eliott fucks him slowly, carefully, for what seems like hours, until Lucas feels delirious with pleasure. In the end, as Eliott is taking him from behind, and reaches around to finish him off with a few tight strokes, he splatters all over their little private garden as he comes. Eliott pulls out and does the same, considerate. 

They lay back amidst the crushed flowers now covering the bed, loose petals and plant matter and pollen, that have left green streaks all over their bodies. 

They doze off for a while, and when Lucas wakes up, he finds that the light of the afternoon has snuck in through the angle of the window, and everything is bathed in gold. He looks at Eliott, who is looking at him, eyes languid and half closed, and his body feels so heavy. The flowers around them hang their heads in the summer heat, just as woozy as him. Some are already decaying, in an accelerated life cycle, just as spent as he is after bursting into flowers. The moment is perfect, too perfect, and fear sneaks in.

"Lucas," Eliott whispers. "We need to talk." 

Lucas looks at a fly, that has landed on a little peony bud near his head, and bats it away. Gods...he knows they should. About their feelings, their relationship, what all of this means, Lucas's godly status, whatever dark things Eliott alluded to in his past, and most of all the future, and its cavalcade of impossible choices. It grabs him by the throat, and it feels wrong, for that anxiety to exist here. 

"I know," he replies. "But can we just...can we just… wait a few days ? Just...I want to enjoy this. What we have here. After all that's happened...I need a happy break. I can't deal with everything else right now." 

Something somber passes over Eliott's face, and he seems to be struggling with himself for an instant, but then he nods, gravely.

"Alright. Whatever you need."

"Thank you." He feels a rush of relief and gratitude. 

He closes his eyes and tries to focus his powers. And it's easy, with his body so awash with energy. He calls a vine from the ground, and it wraps itself around the bed frame, slow and languorous. Five minutes later, it's carrying heavy, golden grapes, ripened to perfection by magic. He reaches out, to pluck a few, and brings them to Eliott's lips, who swallows them whole. Lucas feels extremely decadent, like an emperor hand feeding his favorite consort, reclining on a couch. Emperor of this little cabin in the woods. And he's had glory, but this...he would give it all away for. And in a sense, he did. 

"Wow." Eliott says. "They taste like roses."

Lucas eats one himself. They do - fruits aren't exactly his specialty, it takes him more effort and the end results are often a little strange. But they're sweet, floral, and a little tart, flavor bursting on his tongue. Eliott obviously likes them, grabbing some more off the vines with hungry hands, his eyes never leaving Lucas's as he feeds himself. And for an instant Lucas is lost in the absurd fantasy of just...staying here, forever. Surviving on fruits and fish and fresh air and love, becoming part of the wilderness, in a bubble of eternal summer sustained by the incredible energy that flows between them. 

How sweet that would be.

…

  
  


But eventually, they have to go back. Fruit isn't enough to sate the hunger in their bellies, and he doesn't want anyone to worry so much that they send a rescue party. Besides, some new flowers have grown during their nap. If they were to stay here one more night, the cabin might end up being turned into a pile of rubble.

And even though Lucas would gladly forget the world, he knows the world won’t forget him. 

So they walk back, through the woods, hand in hand this time, their clothes sun warmed but still damp. 

Eliott laces his fingers through Lucas's own, and he shivers with a mixture of satisfaction and anxiety. He wants to be seen with this man, he is so beyond glad that Eliott wants to do this with him, and yet...there is still, somewhere deep inside, that scared queer kid that spent his childhood running from bullies in places that looked a lot like these.

"Do you…" He swallows. "Did you ever get bothered, when you were younger, for liking boys instead of girls ?" 

Eliott rubs at the palm of his hand in reassurance. 

"Not really. Some of them gave me shit for being the son of the weird witch, though. But we never stayed anywhere long enough for it to really matter and they were mostly too scared of my mother to give me too much shit. And I mean...I had crushes on girls at first so it took me a long time to realize I wasn't straight, honestly. Like, high school, and then...stuff happened that overshadowed that anyway, so...yeah. What about you, then ?"

A wave of sorrow hits him. "It was everything, I think. I was just an ideal scapegoat. I was poor and scrawny and small and I had a crazy mother and an asshole for a father." He shrugs, mouth suddenly tasting bitter. "I feel like my bullies knew my sexuality before I did. And then the Persephone thing...god, I remember some of them at the intronisation ceremony. They kept laughing and saying vulgar things…"

Eliott stops and draws Lucas into his arms, surrounding him as if he wanted to shield him from the world.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers. 

"When my company started to get off the ground I was so fucking thrilled. I thought about them and how they would lead the rest of their miserable lives in that shithole and how I would thrive in the city and come back and rub it all in their faces." He presses his forehead into Eliott's shoulder. "Instead I came back to bury my mother." The sadness is still there, it never quite leaves. Like a shard of glass buried in his heart. "I was so focused on proving myself I never quite thought about how she must have been suffering from the same petty small mindedness as I did."

Eliott cups the back of his neck, making circular rubbing motions. His touch is incredibly soothing, and it makes some of the sharpness recede.

"I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that shit." He runs his hands along Lucas's back. "You made mistakes because you were scared and you felt alone but...There never was anything wrong with you. And those morons probably ended up having shitty lives. Not because they stayed back but like...when you're that miserable of a person...you're not glad to live with yourself."

"I don't know if I believe that. I've seen plenty of horrible people be very satisfied with their own lives. And I made myself miserable for a long time. Even when I got to the city and I explored my sexuality without giving a damn and I got buff and rich and everything else. That fucking fear and self-loathing, it was still there. Do you think I deserved that ?"

Eliott takes a deep breath. "That's not what I meant, I...alright, maybe those bullies, they're comfortable now. But I don't think they will ever know true, real love, the kind that shakes you up and turns you inside out and just...transforms you for the better. Or anything like real passion or real beauty. And I guess I… well, it sucks sometimes, I know, to be different and to...to give a damn. To bruise easy because you're vulnerable in a way they're not, because they've just given up on being open to certain things. But I'd like to believe that it's worth it in the end." 

Lucas exhales. He's never believed in justice or fairness or good things happening as a natural characteristic of the universe. 

But maybe he'd like to believe that they can make it happen themselves, now, somehow.

And he's never felt less sorry that he liked men as whenever he is in Eliott's arms.

…

  
  


They walk into the courtyard, hoping to discretely get their things and get ready to make a gracious exit, but they don't get that lucky. With the nice weather, the table has been set outside, and they must have decided to dine early.

Lucas drops Eliott's hand, as a reflex, but then he realises that people are clapping and cheering. 

Um…

He looks at Eliott, nonplussed. 

Basile makes space for them at the end of the table, adding plates, and asking people to move with a gesture, a big cheery smile on his face. “Congratulations ! I knew there was something between you two. I mean, I’m married to the goddess of love, I should know these things.” He claps on Eliott’s shoulder and pushes him to sit in the same gesture. Lucas accompanies him, still...mind boggled. Plates heaped full with food are shoved in their faces and honestly, he’s so hungry at that point that he just digs in without fanfare, and Eliott does the same. 

People stare at them for a few more seconds before the conversations slowly start again and Lucas focuses on his plate - fresh homemade flatbread with sundried tomatoes and bacon, fresh greens from the garden tossed with raspberry vinegar and borage flowers, roasted chicken and potatoes with rosemary and coarse salt...the good thing about the countryside, he has to say, is definitely how tasty the food is. 

“So yeah,” Eliott’s annoying new college girl friend starts, “yesterday we got kind of worried at not seeing you come back so me and Dimitri we went into the woods and, uh. We saw you were doing more than fine without us. Or more like, heard you, I guess. So we decided to leave you to your own devices.” She grins. Lucas feels very annoyed and mortified at the same time, which annoys him even more because he’s never been the type to feel shy about his own sex life before. 

“Don’t be ashamed !” The girl says, misinterpreting his expression, turning her big doe eyes and hippie bangs towards him. “It’s perfectly natural and wonderful. Also, I have always thought that making love in nature is such a wonderful expression of unity with the cosmos,” she adds, tone serene. 

In spite of having similarly cheesy thoughts this morning, Lucas replies tartly, “yeah, especially with all the bugs crawling up your ass and shit. So romantic. Have you, like, ever had sex in your life ?” 

“Well, you have but you’re still so bitchy, maybe you’re doing it wrong.” She replies immediately, deadpan. 

Maybe she’s not as ditzy as she looks, huh. 

Eliott laughs softly. “Bugs weren’t really a problem for us though, right, sweetheart ?” Lucas turns his annoyed expression towards him, disbelieving that he would actually take her side, but then he adds, “with his powers, he can just create a fresh bed of flowers for us to lie on whenever he wants.”

Is he gloating ? 

Nice. 

Lucas smiles. “Yeah, what can I say. I do have the cosmos’s private number.” 

Eliott looks at him, delighted, and kisses him on the cheek. 

The audience, college girl included, apparently a good sport, awwws them in unison. Lucas can’t wait to take Eliott to fancy city dinners - they would make such a good conversation team to shut up some of his annoying opponents - he thinks briefly before reminding himself that that part of his life might very well be over. Oh well. 

After that, dinner is served - creme brulée with fresh raspberries, simple but wonderfully done. He’s starting to suspect that Basile’s grandpa is just running his farm this way because he wants people to cook for. 

...

When they’re done, he helps bring plates to the kitchen and finds himself put in charge of the dishwashing, alongside Basile, who smiles dopily at him. Lucas finds his enthusiasm slightly strange, but then again, he’s not very familiar with having friends. 

“So, is it looooooove ?” 

“Um, yeah.” He says sheepishly, as he scrubs the salad bowl. 

“Isn’t it amazing ?”

Lucas nods. “Yeah, but...don’t you find it weird ? That I’m Persephone and I’m with...not Hades ?” 

“No, not at all. Then again, I am a romantic, and like...well. You know the myth about Aphrodite and Hephaestus, right ?” 

Lucas shakes his head. “No, not really. I kinda, uh. I skipped god school.” 

Basile laughs. “Rebel since the start, huh ? Well. In the myth, our marriage is more of a thing of convenience than passion. Aphrodite is supposed to always be unfaithful, especially with Ares. So, when I got picked by the gods, I thought alright, god of the forge, that’s pretty nifty. But being stuck with a wife that isn’t really into you...bummer. So I told myself, eh, whatever, we’ll just make it a business arrangement. I wouldn’t fall for her and it wouldn’t be a problem, she could do whatever. But then I met Aphrodite and...fuck. I felt so fucking bad, because I fell in love with her immediately. She was like...perfect, gorgeous, funny, sweet, a ray of sunshine really, and I thought, of course a girl like that would never be into me, and I just. Well. I thought I would spend my life being miserable. And, I mean. She did go after Ares in the beginning because she thought that’s what she was supposed to do. But he was an asshole. Just like Zeus and all of his clique. He hurt her. So she came to me for comfort. At that time I thought, better that we just remain friends, but in time…” Lucas can hear the emotion swell in his voice. “Yeah, we figured that we had a lot more in common than we thought, and that, well...myths are bullshit. If she’d persisted, she would have landed herself in an abusive relationship just like Hera. It’s like, that shit they put into our heads...it’s toxic, man. And now we’ve been married for five years and I’m the happiest man on Earth. She tells me I’m all she needs, and I trust her, even if some would call me a fool. I don’t care. So yeah, if you can find happiness with a mortal, it’s...whatever, dude. I think it’s brave. As long as you’re happy. You need to be happy, man ! That’s how we win. And I mean…" he lowers his voice, "I am very straight and very married but I can still see that Eliott is a beautiful, beautiful man. Inside and out." He waves with the cleaning brush. "You gotta do us proud, man. You gotta show him that being loved by a god is the best thing ever - you gotta cherish him, man. Che-rish him." 

He looks like he is two steps from grabbing Lucas by the shoulders and shaking him while yelling about the marvels of love, but strangely Lucas doesn't find him annoying. There is something so straightforward and honest about his enthusiasm.

That's something he wants more of in his life, he thinks as he carefully wipes the cutlery and plates dry. And his words are so...freeing. If the goddess of love can go against her divinely mandated role, then...who is he to worry ?

  
  


…

  
  


He comes out of the kitchen to find Eliott talking to Basile's grandfather. Eliott's face lights up when he enters, as if to say,  _ ah, here is my Lucas _ , and it's wonderful. That this is what they are to each other now.

"So, I was asking Mr. Savary about where we could rent a place for ourselves around here." Eliott explains as he joins them.

"I get it, new lovebirds need privacy," the old man says with a mischievous smile. "Well, Miss Chapuis out on the old mill road has a lovely cottage she rents which I know has been empty for a while so I can call her for you."

"That would be lovely," Lucas says. He's not sure they can afford it but honestly, his brain can't really focus on anything else aside from being alone with Eliott again. 

"You two remind me of my Jeanette and me when we first met," the old man continues. "It's in the eyes, it cannot be hidden."

Lucas's gaze catches Eliott and they both blush. Being addressed as a couple in public...It's quite something. 

"And you can have the guest room for tonight...but you still have to feed the animals tomorrow before you leave." The old man grins. 

That's fair, since they didn't do anything today and still ate and slept at the farm.

It’s really stupid, the way anything seems romantic to him now as long as they do it together.

  
  


…

As it turns out, the guest room is right next to Mr. Savary's room, and across from Basile and Daphne's - which greatly reduces their privacy. Lucas is slightly frustrated, but he can still feel Eliott inside him from earlier. Taking it easy for one night won't kill them. Instead, they just cuddle. 

Now, this isn't the kind of purposefully chaste cuddling they did before. Eliott plasters himself against Lucas's back and wraps himself around him, his hands wandering under Lucas's shirt to palm at his chest and play with his nipples.

He breathes through his nose. "Don't start something we can't finish, baby." 

Eliott stills and laughs. "What, you're afraid of making noise,  _ now _ ?" 

Lucas blushes in the dark, feeling called out. "Ok, but you must have known I was putting on a show for you that night."

"Oh, really ?" Eliott takes his earlobe into his mouth and nibbles on it, gently. Lucas shivers.

"Yeah - ah - you were looking so goddamn jealous in that club for a moment, I wanted to push you."

"I was," Eliott confirms, hands travelling lower until they're resting on Lucas's hips. "I was so fucking jealous." He grinds into Lucas, and he's hard again. Lucas's blood pools in his lower belly, heating up. "If I'd come up, would you have kicked the others out ?" 

"In a heartbeat," Lucas exhales. He imagines the scene, back to that evening. Those two men, being more than adequate and still somehow managing to bore him. How mechanical it had felt. Then he imagines Eliott pounding on the door, and disentangling himself from his partners to go open. And then Eliott, seeing him like that, covered in marks made by others and still looking at him with ravenous eyes, deciding to sweep him off his feet and bring him back to his own apartment to stake his claim. 

Eliott's hand passes over his mouth and then a second later, his other hand reaches into his boxers and wraps itself around Lucas's cock, without any hesitation. He moans into Eliott's palm, both thrilled and surprised that Eliott is being the unreasonable one. But then Eliott stops. 

"Please." Lucas begs, voice muffled. 

"Shhhh...can you be quiet for me, baby ?" 

"Yes," Lucas whimpers, louder than he should be given what he's promising. 

Eliott laughs into his neck. "I don't believe you," he whispers, and lets go of him. 

"Eliott, you fuck… " He thought they were done with the teasing, but apparently not. He makes a fist into the pillow in frustration. 

“Sorry, baby, but there is nowhere to clean if we make a mess. The bathroom is like, downstairs and the stairs are creaky as hell.” 

“Oh,  _ now _ you think this is a bad idea ? Why did you start then ?” Gods, he’s so annoying. Lucas wrestles himself free from Eliott’s arms and pushes him back into the mattress. Eliott laughs, one single ray of moonlight falling onto his face. Like that, with his hair spread on the pillow, his profile drawn in silver, a soft smile on his face, he’s the one that looks like a god, Lucas muses. 

God of blue balls, yeah. He’s got a feeling - well, and he got proof of that this morning - Eliott just likes playing around for hours, and Lucas loves it, but without any latitude for the explosive, loud, unrestrained resolution that would demand, it’s bound to be an exercise in frustration. He smirks. Eliott likes to pretend he’s so patient and on top of his pulsions but when it comes down to it, he’s just as much of a horny idiot. Time for him to make some executive decisions again.

“I know what to do about the mess.” He whispers. “Now...your turn to be silent.”

He draws a line down Eliott’s torso with his fingers, and follows it with his tongue. Then he disappears under the covers, finding himself in the dark, head between Eliott’s legs. He closes his eyes and lets himself be guided by sensation. 

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


In the morning, they’re woken up by someone knocking loudly on the door of their room. It’s Basile, who is more enthusiastic about farm work than anyone should legally allowed to be. During breakfast, Lucas looks at Aphrodite - Daphné. She is wearing an overall and a pink sweater and seems radiantly happy, eating from her oatmeal bowl with gusto. It’s not a place he would expect a goddess of love to like, but she seems so content. At the same time...he remembers what she said during their confessional meeting. If she struggled with an eating disorder and self image issues, it’s very probable the press is tied into that, and taking a break from the city...no wonder this is a happy place for her. Even if he feels out of place here, he doesn't miss the paparazzi one bit.

After that, it’s back to the animal pens. Sheep and pigs and dogs get fed without an issue, but somehow it’s the chickens that outsmart him. He’s throwing grain at them and like idiots, they run from it as if he was attacking them. 

“Noooo, baby, take it easy ! Nobody wants to get their food thrown at them !” Eliott says, next to him, cooing. 

“Oh come on, these are chickens, not diners at a five star restaurant ! How are they too stupid to realize that this is food and not rocks ?”

Eliott tuts at him and then, holding his bucket in one hand, he kneels, stretching out his hand full of grain to a big fluffy white hen. The hen looks at him with an expression of doubt, but then starts pecking from Eliott’s hand. 

Un-fucking-believable. 

“What are you, the fucking chicken whisperer ?”

Eliott laughs. “I don’t know, animals have always liked me. But it’s not very hard, you just have to be gentle and respect their boundaries.” 

Gods. He’s fucking ridiculous. Lucas loves him so fucking much. 

Eliott puts the remaining grain on little piles on the floor and then he turns, an expression of worry coming onto his face. 

“Uh, Lucas...you were in last... Did you close the pen behind you ?”

“Of course I...oh fuck." He swears as he looks behind himself. Well, he did push the barrier closed, but probably not firmly enough, because now the chickens are storming out after some devious one must have pulled it open again.

They take one panicked look at each other and break into a run.

It takes them almost an hour to find all the wandering chickens and herd them back to the pen. A few of them go good humoredly as Eliott lures them out with food, but some are more tricky. Eliott ends up grabbing several and sticking them under his arms, walking them back to the pen. Lucas tries to do the same and he gets claw marks on his arms for his trouble. Instead, he has to go through the entire farm running after a particularly malicious brown hen who seems determined to escape to freedom. Lucas is pretty damn sure she opened the gate. He's about to give up after having chased her around a tractor for ten minutes when, out of nowhere, Eliott swoops in and grabs her. 

"Eliott ! I had her !" 

"Sure you did. But we have places to be, don't we, baby ?" 

Oh. 

Well, yeah, they do. That bloody chicken had him in his pride for an instant but what the fuck does he care. He is not the chicken whisperer. It's fine. 

They have places to be. More specifically, one place where they can be alone together again. That's all that matters.

  
  


…

  
  


They say goodbye to everybody at the farm, including Basile and Daphne, with whom they promise to stay in touch about the developments in the city. And they are invited to come back on Saturday evening, when they will host a feast and a bonfire for the whole village.

After that, they get into Mr. Savary's big rusty truck and hobble around a few countryside roads across the lovely hilly landscape, until they turn right and upwards at a stone pillar marking a roadway shrine. 

The cottage is situated on the gentle slope of a little hill, surrounded by little trees, and a gorgeous garden. It has a thatched roof, light blue wooden door and blinds, and yellow roses climbing over the stone facade. It seems quite small, but also unerringly lovely. 

It's perfect. 

At the entrance they meet a sweet old lady who gives them a tour. Inside, there is just one room - an old fashioned stove, a rustic little kitchen, a big bed made of sculpted wood, a fireplace, two rocking chairs, an oak table slightly too big for the space. The washing room and toilet are outside, in a separate wooden shed. There isn't any warm water, but it's the summer, they will be fine. 

Finally, they say goodbye to the lady and to Basile's grandfather, and then they are alone again. 

"We don't have any neighbors," Eliott grins as they listen to the sound of the truck driving away. 

"Why, are you planning on playing some loud music ?"

"Sure," Eliott deadpans, "didn't I tell you I brought my collection of dubstep vinyls in my bag ?"

"I don't even know what those words mean," Lucas laughs. 

"What do you listen to, then, elevator music ?"

"You know insulting my music taste isn't going to get you laid, right ?"

"Eh, I came here for the fresh air anyway."

"Sure, not a lot of that on a farm." 

"I know, and chickens everywhere, can you imagine ?"

While exchanging this volley of words, they've drawn closer again, so close that their noses are touching and they laugh. Then lean their foreheads together. Lucas closes his eyes and inhales. 

It hits him, how new and strange and dizzying this all is. Lucas Lallemant, player, heartbreaker, cold customer ; Lucas Lallemant the workaholic, business mogul, wayward god destined to be forever alone. In no version of his future whatsoever did he see this coming. 

Having this level of intimacy with someone, and not running, but seeking it out, more of it. This level of trust and this...hunger for each other that seems like it will never run out. He's lost his company, most of his money, he's a wanted man, and he's holed up in a small stone house with someone making googly eyes at him. A year ago this would have fit his definition of hell perfectly. Now all he wants is more. He is so happy it feels indecent.

"Where do you want to start ?" Eliott whispers, tracing his lips with a thumb. 

"Everywhere," Lucas asks breathlessly.

Eliott does his best to fulfill Lucas's wishes, as the afternoon melts into evening, once again taking his time. Lucas is so used to the rhythm of one night stands, fast and dirty, and this is so different. No utilitarian rush to climax ; they're learning each other's bodies, and each touch is its own reward. 

Afterwards, as they lie in bed together, sweaty and satiated, Lucas regains awareness of their surroundings. 

"I don't want to damage this place by having flowers grow here," he realises. "I can't just have interior decorators come in and replace everything anymore."

Eliott puts his hand on Lucas's bare belly. "I don't think it has to happen, necessarily. It's all energy, I can feel it. It just needs an outlet."

Lucas puts his hand over Eliott's, and focuses. It's never been so easy to connect to his godly energy. Peripheral perception gives him awareness of the world around him, his lover and himself. And he can feel it too, and it's breathtaking. Inside him, it's as if a little sun has blossomed, warm and green, a force of pure life. It's the loveliest thing he has ever felt, and it stuns him. 

He turns his attention out backwards. On the other half of the hill, there is a dead tree, struck by lightning years ago, and he gets a flash of inspiration.

"Help me ?" 

Eliott nods without asking. They put their clothes back on, and walk to the other side, arm in arm. The tree in question is an oak, and probably centuries old. It's cleaved through by a burned mark coming down from the sky. At the base, he can feel the last stirrings of life, soon to run out of sap, not enough anymore to combat the weight of all that dead matter. 

Lucas kneels and puts his hands on the base of the tree. Eliott's palm nestles behind his shoulder blades, not pulling or giving power this time, but just there as a settling force. With him there, he feels so grounded and in control of his own power, it's incredible. 

He slowly reaches towards the tree's last living cells, and infuses them with strength. Then his mind goes upwards, waking dead and charred wood with the energy of life and regeneration. He goes slowly, not wanting to break anything. It's delicate work, working with pre-existing structure. He couldn't have done it before ; he would just have rushed through and broken it. 

He loses track of time, and at some point, he becomes the tree, working in the crown with fresh new leaves budding and unfurling, already in love with the sun. 

Eventually he feels Eliott pull on his mind, gently, making him aware of his own boundaries again.

_ Time to come back home, sweetheart.  _

He follows easily, and wakes up in Eliott's arms, and above them, the oak's branches are wreathed in vibrant green, and its base is nestled in flowers. Satisfaction hums in Lucas's entire body. 

How wonderful it is, to make things grow and thrive.

…

The next morning, they are woken by the sound of Eliott's vibrating phone. 

He takes it as an opportunity to check his own messages as he turns plane mode off. There is a lot from the press, his old colleagues, acquaintances wanting to know what is happening - it gives him a headache. He can't deal with this right now. The only message he cares about is Imane's.

_ Your god friends have told me you're ok but I still want news idiot !!!!! _

That's a lot of exclamation points. Especially for her.

He takes a quick picture of Eliott's messy bedhead framed by the pillow and sends it to her with the caption  _ news are good not complaining  _

She replies instantly _ I'm so happy for you. Also we are causing massive trouble. Wish you could see it.  _

_ That's my girl,  _ he replies.  _ Keep some trouble for me.  _

"What was that for ?" Eliott asks.

"The tabloids," he replies, earning himself a frown. "Just kidding, it was for Imane. She wanted some news."

"And you wanted to gloat."

"You are very gloat worthy." 

He dives in for a kiss but Eliott stops him, face slightly troubled. "I got a message from my banker today congratulating me on my exceptional fortunes. So I went to check my account. Wanna explain this to me ?" He pushes his screen in Lucas's face.

The amount on the screen is unmistakable. Two billion, ninety two thousand, three hundred, fifty two. And forty five cents.

Ah yeah. That.

"Uh...congratulations on winning the lottery ?" 

Eliott raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. 

"Alright, I did it." Lucas sighs, letting himself fall back on his downy pillow. No use denying it now. He knows he should have come clean about this earlier, but Eliott can't blame him for being distracted.

"Seven bloody hells, Lucas ! You can't just go around giving people two billion !"

"You're not  _ people _ , Eliott. Besides, it comes in handy now that all my assets are frozen, doesn't it ? With this, we can still make a life for ourselves."

Eliott frowns. "Did you know...Everything that would happen ?" 

"I did not. But I had an inkling we might get into trouble."

"And you just...trusted me with all that money ?" 

"Yes. Besides, one of the two billion is just for safekeeping, but the other is for you. As a reward."

"That's….that's ridiculous, Lucas. That's way too much."

"No it's not, it's simple arithmetics. You saved my life multiple times. My net worth is considerable. If I was dead I would not be able to use my money. Therefore, since it's thanks to you I am still able to enjoy it, or I did when I made the transfer anyway, a part of it should now rightfully belong to you."

Eliott groans.

"Besides, once I get my assets back, I have decided I will give most of it to charity. It is way too much money for a single person to have and it's useless to me anyway. I'll keep enough to live comfortably but not more. Once we get rid of the Fates, I won't need it as a safeguard anymore." He thought about it a lot before they came here. "Maybe I should give a billion to Jeremy, too." 

"Oh my god, Lucas, no. The last thing we need is one more idiot with more money than sense."

"After all I put him through, he kind of deserves it though."

"Give him a nice bonus of a few million then. Enough to give him a lovely start in life, not enough to make him lose all common sense." 

Lucas rolls his eyes. 

"You shouldn't be so dismissive of billionaires." He grins. "Since you're one too now."

Eliott shakes his head. "I'm not keeping it."

Lucas sighs. "Maybe we can wait until we're not on the run anymore to make a decision ? Because right now having a lot of money is kinda reassuring, you know."

"Alright. But I am also giving most of it to charity once we're set. Gods." He laughs in disbelief. "I can't fucking believe you.  _ Oh Eliott _ ," he pitches his voice high in a teasing imitation, " _ poor me, I'm so poor, I've lost everything, I need your dick to make it better ! _ You bloody drama queen." 

Lucas chuckles. "Oh come on, you didn't fuck me out of pity, did you ? And going from twenty seven to two billion  _ is _ a massive adjustment. Besides," he rolls on top of Eliott, "the money is all yours now. I'll just have to earn my keep, I guess," he says in a sultry voice. 

Eliott looks at him, slightly exasperated. "Oh I see, so this was just an elaborate way of fulfilling your sugar daddy fantasies, huh ?" 

Lucas smirks. "Well, gotta switch it up sometimes. And besides, you didn't respond very well to me buying you stuff, so...thought maybe you'd like it better the other way around."

Eliott laughs. "Sorry, I just don't see what's all that exciting about money changing hands as a form of foreplay. Maybe I'm just old fashioned."

Lucas sighs dramatically. "Well, alright then. You're no fun, but it's your choice, I guess." 

"Let's just say this is  _ our _ money." Eliott says, rolling them around and kissing Lucas's cheek. "Thank you for your foresight and making sure we would have enough resources. And thank you for trusting me with them." He lays several more kisses on Lucas's face - forehead, chin, nose, brow. "I know how important that is to you, safety wise. So thank you."

Gods, how does he always manage to cut to the core of the issue. Lucas can't help but blush a little. "It's nothing." But he is right. Behind the bluster all that matters is that he and his loved ones are safe.

"No it's not. You're infuriating, but you're so clever. Whatever happens, I trust you to find us a way through." 

Something very deep inside of him trembles softly. "I know I'm resourceful. But I'm too tired of going it alone. With you being there...it makes all the difference." 

  
  


…

  
  


After a very emotional morning tumble, they wash up and head towards the farmer's market. Their hostess had left them some food for the evening before but they finished it clean through, their appetites worked up, and now they are using her direction to get some provisions for themselves. It's a beautiful walk to get to the center of the village, paths and roads through little woods, flowery meadows and fields of green wheat, along brooks and other old farms. This part of the countryside seems a lot more prosperous than where Lucas grew up, where the land was flat and hard and unyielding. 

The village is a small collection of charming stone houses along winding streets, and at the center is the market place, arranged next to the main temple. It is full of colorful stalls stacked full with an abundance of produce. They wander around at first, delicious smells coming at them from all sides, getting themselves lured into tasting all sorts of honeys and breads and cheeses. Lucas makes mental notes of what he wants to prepare for them. An hour or so later, they leave with bags full of all sorts of fruits, herbs, vegetables and meats, most of which go into Eliott’s backpack. 

Once they’re back, he sets Eliott up to peeling and chopping vegetables - that’s something he should be able to do without too much damage, and anyway, it’s not like they need perfectly symmetrical jullienne bits. He’s decided to make one of his mother’s favorite dishes, that she would make for the holidays - slow cooked goose stew in a pot with lemons, root vegetables and herbs. He prepares the goose they got from the market, first preparing the bouillon with bundles of herbs, garlic, bay leaves, and then dumping it in to simmer for hours in a cast iron pot. Once he is done with his tasks, Eliott takes out his pad and crayons, and sits down at the kitchen table to sketch, while Lucas stays busy in the kitchen. The recipe involves taking a lot of fat as it renders off - but it can’t be removed, it’s what allows the goose to cook slowly and the meat to remain tender. It’s peasant food, not especially sexy or romantic - but to him, it represents home, and the smells that arise as he works put him in a strange fug of nostalgia. 

It’s so domestic, this. And he loves it so much, and that itself is strange to him, because he doesn’t have a happy history with the term. Even before his mother’s sickness got worse, his parents were not a happy couple. His father was always unhappy with how his mother ran the household, always complaining about the cold, the humidity, the taste of the food, the dust in the corners. And the house was always drafty, it was true, and they never could afford the good cuts of meat, but was that really his mother’s doing ? As a child, however, it had been all too easy to blame her. Accept that it was laziness that kept her in bed some days, because other explanations were so frightful to him. Regardless, the few happy memories he has of home is being alone with her when his father left to do seasonal work. She’d been the one to teach him how to cook, for the first time, too. Those times were full of warmth, and basic food items being turned into wonders. It was a sort of magic, too. 

But then...he’d started to have more and more reasons to distance himself from his mother, because being seen as a mama’s boy did him no favors. And tragedy snuck into their house, teeth sharper than before, and soon there was no warmth left. Before long, he’d associated anything domestic with misery and simmering resentment and short bursts of violence. For the first few years on his own he’d eaten just as bad as Eliott must have, frozen dinners and junk food. It had been amazing once he had started earning enough money to pay people to do everything for him. When he’d paid a chef to teach him how to cook, it had been so detached from his past. Food as a precision craft, an art showcase, nothing to do with simple subsistence. 

  
This is different. Cooking for someone you love is the most basic thing there is, and it brings him back to his roots. Back to that time he was too young to have learned that caring can be dangerous.

Lucas finds more things to do, preparing some of the groceries so they can have food ahead for the next few days. He combines some summer fruits - apricots, raspberries, strawberries - with brown sugar, some lavender blossoms and acid wild plums from the garden to prepare a rich jam for breakfast. Then he starts kneading flour with a splash of warm milk, butter and some nutmeg to make a rich, almost brioche like bread. He’s with his elbows up in flour when Eliott gets up to wrap himself around Lucas’s back, lacing his arms around Lucas’s waist. 

“Hey, careful, you’re going to get flour on yourself.” 

Eliott hums. “It’s okay. I’m always careful.” He kisses Lucas’s neck. “Do you know how attractive you are right now ?” His hands migrate lower, but Lucas stops him. 

“We’re not having sex right now. There’s too much on the fire I need to watch and I will not let it be ruined. Behave.”

Eliott grumbles but lets go of him, and sits back down. “Alright, chef.” Then he picks up his pencil and resumes where he left off, his face immediately taking on the cast of concentration.

Lucas throws a glance at Eliott’s drawings. He can see glimpses of the village, fruits and flowers, sketches of hands, eyes, a nose - his own, he realizes, and one simple drawing of his own face. All in Eliott’s trademark style, elegant, fluid lines full of movement and life. He’s so talented. 

“I mean, I have to feed the artist, right ?” 

“We’re both artists,” Eliott replies, without lifting his gaze from the paper. “It’s not about the medium, it’s the spirit.” 

“And what is that, then ?”

“Putting your love out into the world and making it real,” he says simply, his voice soft. And Lucas feels warm, so warm, he could melt on the spot. Instead he just smiles, and resumes kneading bread. 

  
  


…

  
  


It’s destabilizing, how easily they settle into this new routine. Eliott doesn’t bring up the subject of the future again, even though Lucas can tell he wants to sometimes ; but he is waiting for Lucas. And Lucas appreciates it. He’s never felt this at peace in his entire life. He wants to savor it for a moment. 

So the days pass. They spend countless hours in bed, the fire between them giving no signs of dimming. But Lucas cherishes the rest of the moments they have together just as much. After every time they make love, they go into the garden, and Lucas feeds it their combined energy, having it grow lush and beautiful beyond measure - after a while, he even starts a little fruit orchard from the seeds of the fruit they ate. They take long walks everyday, exploring the countryside around the cottage - visiting caves, ruins, and one day a little lake they spend an afternoon swimming in. They find some old books to read. They talk for hours, about everything and nothing. Eliott draws, and gets some paint from the village grocer, and some actual canvasses, and then his fingers become stained with color and so do his cheeks, sometimes. Lucas spends a lot of time in the kitchen, and he loves it - making stews and pies and all sorts of little breads, and there is a venomous little voice in his head that goes _ look at you flower goddess playing the little housewife, _ but it carries very little power.

He never feels trapped, with Eliott, or pressured to be a certain way. He just feels happy, and safe. And free. And that’s what it’s always been about.

  
  


…

  
  


On one day, the weather is overcast, and suddenly a little chilly, so they stay inside. 

Eliott decides to start a fire in their little fireplace. He brings in chopped wood from the little reserve outside but before putting the logs in, he draws some symbols in the ash, circles and crosses and hearts, muttering to himself. 

Lucas wonders for a moment. “What are you doing ?” 

Eliott finishes, then starts constructing the fire in a well arranged pile. He’s clearly had practice doing this. 

“Prayer to the spirits of the hearth fire,” he shrugs. “It brings safety and warmth. Was taught to do it when I was younger. When you have a camp outside, it’s especially important. The fire protects you against the darkness.” 

Lucas recognizes that as a leftover tradition from the old animist beliefs people used to have around these parts before the cults of the Greek gods took over. Very, very old. There is always one more layer to Eliott, isn't there ? What a strange creature he is, under the sweet and bashful surface, Lucas muses, exorcist, magician of extraordinary power, raised half-wild, now lover of a god without any hesitation. He can imagine him as he was before he came to the city, especially from the stories Eliott’s told him of his past - a lonely figure, tall and wrapped in a long coat, walking across misty moors and forbidden forests to the villages that bitterly needed him but were too afraid of him to ever give him a home. A vagabond, a mystery, a bringer of relief wreathed in the chill of his brushes with the otherworldly. Always calm, stern but comforting as he helps people facing the worst of their sorrow, shame and guilt. A protector, taking on himself all the miasmas of the undead to give people solace and peace, even the undeserving. Always alone.

_ He would have made such a good Hades.  _

The thought strikes him out of nowhere, unbidden. It’s a bit strange, but as Lucas considers it...he really agrees with himself. Fate is really fucking stupid sometimes, but then again, the last Hades was an irresponsible washed out rockstar, without a nurturing or protective bone in his body. It must take one hell of a backbone, to take on the role of the Lord of the Underworld properly, he thinks. To deal with all that sorrow, all that human rawness, millennias of memories, both beautiful and awful. Of all the godly powers, it’s truly the one role that seems too big for any one human. 

Maybe it’s no wonder that his Hades just fucked off. Yeah, Eliott as Hades would have been incredible - just to think of them as real equals. He would never have had to be afraid of the Fates, then. But...in the end, it’s too heavy a burden, and he’s glad Eliott is just a magician. 

The fire roars to live, crackling and casting golden orange light throughout their little cottage, and Eliott gets up again, coming to him with his fingers covered in soot. Lucas grabs his hands and brushes them clean with his sleeves, then kisses his knuckles. 

“What are you thinking about, my love ?” 

“The meaning of luck,” Lucas answers. 

He pads over to the kitchen, and grabs the half-empty bottle of fizzy pear and apple cider out of their little fridge. He pours two small glasses for the both of them, and brings them back to Eliott, sitting on the edge of the bed, face aglow with the warm reflection of the fire’s light. 

They clink their glasses together, and drink. 

“I feel lucky, too,” Eliott finally says, as if answering the conversation Lucas was having with himself in his head. “Impossibly so. I haven’t entirely clued in yet that I’m allowed to have this, you know ? I’ve just been drifting for so long.”

Lucas' heart feels heavy, because he, too, despite his happiness, feels the insecurity. You don't unlearn a lifetime of brittleness and living on the margins of heartlessness in a few days or weeks or months. And it shakes him a little, that Eliott isn’t entirely here, in their perfect bubble. But he isn’t either. He feels how fragile and miraculous it is, and how unused they both are to this easiness, and how afraid they are to lose it. 

He wants to ask, what would it take for you to settle ? But that would come too close to invoking the specter of the future into the room. 

Lucas finishes his cider in a few gulps, bubbles tingly on his tongue, and sets his glass down. 

The next best thing : to make him feel it. Again and again and again until the meaning sinks into both their skins, down to the marrow and the very bones. This is going to take effort for the both of them. But the good kind.

He sits himself into Eliott's lap, whispering  _ we'll figure it together _ as a half-whisper half-thought, and makes his touch a prayer. He wants to be a creature of flame, warming, searing, life-giving. He runs his mouth on Eliott's neck, his face and collarbone and torso, hungrily, sucking the skin into his mouth, aiming to leave marks. He hears Eliott whimper under him when he uses a hint of teeth, and it thrills him. 

A slight patter starts to be heard on the window, indicating that the rain has started again, but this time, they are safe and dry in their toasty little refuge. 

They get rid of their shirts, and then Lucas pushes Eliott back into the marshmallowy bed cover, and unlaces his belt buckle to pull his pants down, freeing his erection. He's never not to die for, like this. Lucas's first impulse is to want to ride him until the early hours of the morning, but he gets another idea suddenly. 

"Can I fuck you ?"

"Yes. Please." Eliott exhales, cheeks red. 

He's got his preferences and he's not ashamed of it, but there is something about being with Eliott that makes him want to do things he usually isn't that keen on. Maybe because he always finds it so intimate, being inside of someone.

But here…

He pulls Eliott's pants all the way off, and then reaches for the little jar of vaseline they got at the village's tanner after their lube ran out. 

Eliott spreads his legs, eager, hand already on his dick. Lucas bites his lip, feeling the hardness between his legs grow heavier. He's so beautiful Lucas feels overwhelmed for a moment, all long lines and lithe muscle. The tattoos add a little edge - snakes on his arm, protective sigils on his chest, a wreath of ivy on his left leg. He looks every bit the badass magician he is, and he is all at Lucas's disposal. 

Heavenly, Lucas thinks, and he sinks down, covering him with his own body. He wishes he could tease Eliott forever but he doesn't really have that kind of patience when he's on top ; he burns too fast for that. He claims Eliott's mouth and Eliott wraps his arms around him, locking him in. 

Eliott runs his hands up and down his back, hungry again. He's as insatiable as Lucas, and god he loves it so much.

He slicks his fingers up and reaches down, Eliott's rim pulsing under his touch as he finds it. 

"Be gentle," Eliott asks, voice hoarse. "It's been a while." 

"You know me, I'm always gentle," Lucas says and Eliott laughs.

He isn't, but he wants to be for Eliott so he slowly pushes a finger in and waits for him to adjust, watching his eyes go glassy as he crooks his fingers and makes come-hither motions, stroking him from the inside. He's...really tight.

Eliott exhales loudly and throws his head back, wracked by a full body shiver. He usually isn't the loud type, but Lucas wants to see if he can rile up that composure a little more.  He takes one of Eliott's nipples into his mouth, nibbles and sucks at it until it's red and hard and repeats with the other one, feeling his pulse quickening.

He adds a second finger, then, and grazes something inside Eliott that makes him moan and fly a hand onto his mouth in a nervous motion, to clamp the sound in.

"What do you need to quiet yourself for, my love ?" Lucas whispers. He always seems to love how loud Lucas is, smiling blissfully and encouraging him when he moans his heart out, so...

He pulls his fingers out and Eliott lets out a noise of protest, releasing his grip on his own face.

"I don't…" he starts, "I don't know. I just…" His chest heaves. 

Lucas doesn't want to push him into discomfort, but he has a hunch that this is part of Eliott's compulsion to hide, and if he can help free him of that…

"It's alright, baby. We're safe here, and I want to hear you." 

"Okay," Eliott responds, voice slightly shaky.

He lets out a soft moan when Lucas's fingers breach him again, playing with his rim and then going deeper and deeper, until he's sunk in to the knuckles.

"Are you ready for me, baby ?"

"Yes, yes, please !" 

Ah, that's so lovely. He wants to do this more if it means he gets to hear Eliott beg like this. He pulls out and lubes himself up, dick hardening even more in anticipation. 

"Alright," and he bears down, lines himself up, and drives himself into Eliott's willing body. He arches up as Lucas's cock stretches his hole out, crying out softly, already louder on the second thrust. Lucas feels sparks fly along his spine. It feels wonderful, and he wants to lose himself in that engulfing warmth entirely. 

He works up a slow rhythm, very careful of Eliott's reactions, and then faster as he feels him get looser around him, inner walls contracting hungrily, exhales becoming sharp little moans. He lowers himself down on his elbows, getting closer. 

Eliott wraps his long arms around his neck, clingy. "Lucas," he whimpers, saying his name with a begging tone. 

"I love you," Lucas whispers into Eliott's damp skin, glowing in the firelight. He has a glimpse of Eliott baring his soul by the river, so brave and hopeful.  _ You're my home _ , the first thing he had said to Lucas, cutting through his awful self doubt, and what a special thing to say for someone who probably never had a real home in his life.  _ My home _ \- safety, joy, comfort, ease, belonging, acceptance. Love. A place to let your guard down, a space for soft comforts and exploring without fear, a space for growth and shelter and regeneration. That he could be somebody's home, with all his spikes and that mess inside, and that crazy life - gods it had driven him wild and it still does. 

Eliott runs his arms down Lucas's back and Lucas can feel him start to let loose, start to move in sync with his thrusts, gripping into Lucas's flesh with hungry fingers, urging him on. 

"Gods, Lucas, fuck, yeah, like that…"

Lucas's heart swells with the satisfaction of a job well done. He feels the moment when he grazes his prostate, as Eliott bucks into him and his hands contract hard enough to bruise, letting out a long drawn out moan. For a moment their combined movements and sighs become a harmony, and he can't distinguish where he stops and Eliott begins, as their energies melt into a whirling, living, pulsating whole.

"You're my home, too," he whispers, and then Eliott's done for, clenching around him and coming with one loud cry, and Lucas follows right after. Pleasure like a rush of water flowing upwards, like a content licking fire, like the end and beginning of everything in a little bottle of a moment.

Eventually, he pulls out, and he rolls back. He feels as if he's been run over by a truck, but in a good way. 

As they lay there, out of breath, Eliott looks at him with infinite tenderness, and caresses Lucas’s cheek with the back of his fingers. 

After a long time, he asks, 

“Can I draw you, my love ?” 

Lucas looks up to the hair hanging in his face. He really needs a haircut, honestly. He must be all sweaty and messy. “Um, like this ?” 

Eliott smiles. “Especially like this. Even though this might not be a drawing I show to anybody else.”

Oh...that kind of drawing, huh. He does adore the idea of being a muse, honestly, especially the kind that haunts the artist’s naughtiest dreams.

“Alright. Go get your stuff.” 

Eliott gets up and walks to the table to pick up his pad, then he changes his mind and gets the small easel instead. Lucas can see his own come glistening on the inside of Eliott’s thigh, and he doesn’t seem to notice, so absorbed is he in his task. It’s kind of gross, but in a way that thrills him. That’s intimacy, too, being filthy together. 

Eliott puts his painting supplies on the nightstand and grabs all the pillows, putting them behind Lucas and positioning him the wants to draw him - reclined but not completely, one arm behind his head and another on his belly, one knee bent. Then he looks at him and frowns. 

“Missing something ?” 

“I don’t know, maybe…”

Lucas calls up the latent energy that has gathered in his body, and directs to his hands, between which a huge rose blossoms - white, because that's what would best reflect the low lighting. He lays it on his navel. 

“How about that ?” 

“Brilliant.” Eliott says, his eyes feverish. “Can you...maybe take a few petals from it and uh, spread them around ?” 

“Of course,” Lucas says, and he complies, detaching some of the creamy petals from the flower and letting them fall on himself, then turns his most insolent look towards Eliott. “You’ve plucked the flower already, is that it ?” 

Eliott blushes as he sets the canvas up on the easel and starts to draw with broad strokes. But then he stops and frowns. 

“What’s the problem, baby ?” He’s starting to be able to read Eliott better than himself, to know instinctively when he’s getting lost in his own head. 

“I don’t know, I...I haven’t really painted a real painting in...Forever. I just, uh. This is kind of what I’ve always dreamed of doing, but now it’s just…”

Lucas has a brief strike of inspiration. 

“Come here.” 

Eliott throws him a hesitant look, but walks towards him all the same. 

“Can I try something ? Give me your hands ?” 

He does, trusting. Lucas laces his fingers through Eliott’s, then closes his eyes. He turns his perception back inside, to that now very familiar little blossoming sun inside his chest and belly that always arises whenever they’ve been together, the one he’s been learning to channel into plants ; this time, however, it’s Eliott he directs it to. He goes very, very slowly, because he doesn’t want to turn Eliott’s fingers into vines or something equally horrific. At first it’s like warmth, flowing between their fingers. He presses his intention into it, and it changes, taking colors, a different sort of life, life of the spirit. He understands this energy so much better now : it’s pure creative sap. It’s what he used to make his business thrive, at the start. Given to plants, it irradiates them with new life. Given to a painter…

“Woah,” Eliott says when Lucas finally lets his hands go, lifting them towards his face. Lucas sees, in the flickering light, that they’re now...Covered in colors. Light pigmentation running along his veins in a radial pattern, light pink and orange and blue and green.

“Shit, I didn’t mean…” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s more than fine.” He looks very wired all of a sudden. “Please lie back.” 

Lucas assumes the pose he put him in earlier again, trying to quiet his worry. Eliott has been so helpful with his energy transfers, he just wanted to do something a bit similar, but his energy has always been so difficult to control, what if…

But Eliott seems more than fine, even if slightly entranced. His pencil flies over the canvas, and soon it’s brushstrokes he is using. He looks at Lucas often, attentive and yet somewhere else, eyes flying over the planes of his body. It makes him feel more naked than he’s ever been, but in a good way, inspiring of abandon. He feels held by Eliott’s gaze,  _ seen,  _ just as much as by his body earlier, and the minutes pass, slowly turning into hours. They both fall into a rhythm, shared breaths, and he is able to know each time, a second in advance, when Eliott needs Lucas to look in his direction. And he can feel the energy flowing between them, a living exchange.

The light of the fire slowly dims, and the day outside turns to night. 

Finally, finally Eliott lays his brush down - and blinks. 

“Holy shit.” He stares at what he’s done. Lucas notices that the color has disappeared from his hands. 

“Happy ? I can pose tomorrow again if you want to.” 

“I don’t think you will have to.” Eliott replies, eyes wide. 

Lucas gets up, stretching his slightly cramped muscles. Thanks to the open fireplace, it’s not even near cold in their cottage. “Can I see ?” 

Eliott pivots the easel towards him, and Lucas’s mouth falls open. 

He doesn’t know much about art, but this...this is a fucking masterpiece, and he’s not saying that because he’s the subject. It’s...incredible. The painting is finished, for the most part, only the background left blurry, but the way it sets a scene is faultless. It’s a study in the rendition of light, the planes of his body coming across in a way that is both soft and stark, mostly impressionistic, drawing into focus in certain specific spots, the rose petals like shining drops of velvet light, his hands, and his face - oh, wow. He looks...well, blissed out of his mind, for one, and there isn’t much doubt as to the circumstances in which the painting has been done. The smallest touch of blue-green in his heavy lidded eyes, and a languid smile, as if he knows the viewer’s dirty secrets. He just seems so at ease. It’s almost a little embarrassing to look at, and definitely too intimate to show around. 

“Wow, that’s...incredible. How did you finish that so fast ?” 

“Well...magic. It’s like, I was in this flow, and…it’s as if nothing else mattered anymore, and I wasn’t afraid, or hesitant, I just…” He smiles at Lucas, radiant.

“The talent was already there, I just boosted it a little.” Lucas says. He doesn’t want Eliott to think that he’s dependent on Lucas. 

“Thank you so much.” He gets up and takes Lucas in his arms. “My muse.” 

Lucas’s entire body feels alight. Making Eliott happy is such a rush - and thinking of the potential of this... They can make beautiful things together, they really can. 

  
  
  


…

  
  


Eventually, Saturday comes around, and they walk to the farm, late in the afternoon. Once they’re there, Lucas manifests an enormous bouquet of sunflowers as a gift. He always has energy to spare, these days. He's just so fucking happy, it's ridiculous. 

The farm grounds are full of people, not all of whom Lucas recognizes. Lights have been strung around the courtyard, and several big tables have been set for dinner. 

“Hey !” Daphné and Basile wave at them, and Lucas walks in their direction. He is glad to see them, and glad to be here.

“So,” Basile grins, “how’s the honeymoon ?” 

“Good," Eliott says, a grin in his voice as he wraps his arms around Lucas. "A bit tiring, though." 

"Ooh." Basile responds.

"I would give you my blessings," Daphne adds, mischievous, "but it doesn't seem like you need them."

Lucas turns a charming smile towards her. “A blessing from Aphrodite would always be welcome.” He pulls a sunflower out of the bouquet for her and infuses it with extra energy. “Here’s mine.” 

“Awww, thank you, that's beautiful.” Obviously still a city girl deep down, she brings it to her nose before realising it doesn’t really have a scent. Basile takes a picture of her. 

“Gotta put this in the groupchat. Persephone is actually giving blessings ! What a day !” 

Coming from anyone else, it would probably have been sarcastic. But from Basile...Lucas just smiles. “Guess I’m in a giving mood.” 

Eliott kisses his cheek. “Can I have one ?” 

“You’ve had a lot of my blessings already, aren’t you being a bit greedy ?” 

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now ?” 

“Ah, there you are !” Basile’s grandfather walks towards them, with a grin. “You didn’t sign the guestbook last time ! Don’t you want to leave us a trace of your passage ? My Jeanette would have loved it - our farm as a place where new love begins !” 

Apparently enthusiasm is in the family. He gives the flowers to Basile to put in water, and then they go on to sign the book, then help out in the kitchen for a while. A lot of guests are expected, and Mr. Savary explains, a little nervously, that he is hosting this feast for the third time in order to gain some goodwill from the villagers. Not all of them see his constantly having over newcomers and foreigners from a good eye. The first time, it was a catastrophe, but he has hope that he can build from last year’s tepid tolerance into something actually nice this time. When time for dinner has come, Lucas enchants the sunflowers, now divided into lovely smaller bouquets on each table, with some extra energy for peace and good mood.

He sees some grumpy and weary faces, true, but the food is excellent and any hint of tension soon dissolves. It’s an obvious success, and he feels oddly involved in this little village drama now. Maybe it soothes a little bit of his own misgivings. It’s weirdly healing. As is the fact that him and Eliott practically don’t let go of each other’s arm or hand the entire evening, in the view of everyone, and nobody gives them shit. 

After dessert is over - some truly magnificent peach tarts with vervain ice cream - they are let to a splendid bonfire, and sit down against bales of hay. He cuddles up against Eliott, and people start telling stories, about local legends and ghosts, about gods and monsters and lovers. He dozes off a little, belly full, warm, a little tired. 

“Alright, now I want to tell you a story about the gods of my homeland,” a girl gets up and says, with a slightly lilting accent, her dark braids swaying behind her. “In Kemet, we tell the story of the god Wesir, the first of our kings. Wesir was a good king, and the earth and the humans flourished under his care. But one day, his jealous brother, Seth, who had been given the desert to govern as it fit his wrathful and chaotic nature, conspired with guardians of the kingdom. He made a beautiful coffin, and challenged his brother to get inside. Wesir, who had a trusting nature, agreed. But his brother closed the coffin and threw it into the river. And after that, he sought to assume the throne. But Wesir's wife and queen, Aset, who was a very powerful magician, found his body easily, and she started the rites that would bring him back to life." She pauses. She's a good storyteller. Her audience is captive.

"But yet again, Seth, his anger relentless, took his brother's body. And this time, he cut it into twenty seven pieces, and spread it across the land. Aset had a very difficult time finding him, because the life energy of her beloved had been pulled apart. And so she wandered the land, leaving all her queenly garments and comforts behind in her grief, until she was reduced to begging on the streets. And as Seth's reign took hold over the land, so did the desert, and crops faltered and people despaired. But Aset was steadfast, and she kept travelling, and looking, and one day she found one of Wesir's eyes in a fish, and she found a foot under the roots of a tree, and bit by bit she reclaimed all the parts of her husband's body. And she finally was able, in secret, to accomplish the funeral rites, with the help of her sister. And in doing this, she unlocked the secret of life after death and the Undying Lands, over which Wasir would now rule. They conceived a son, Heru, which would go on to reclaim the throne from the wrathful Seth, and push back the desert. And the next year, the fertile waters of life made the land green again. This was the influence of his father returning, it is why we always represent Wasir with green or black skin, because he is the fertile land, which returns to life over and over again, even after the worst droughts. And so we pray to him to preserve our soul, and to his wife, Aset, who represents the strength of love, which can triumph over any evil."

She finishes with a little bow, and people clap as she sits down. 

It’s a fascinating story, Lucas muses. He’s spent his whole life avoiding the myths that rule it, he’s paid even less thought to the gods that reign over other parts of the world, even though he was always vaguely aware of their existence. It’s strange, to reflect on it, making him wonder if his powers would just run out if he left these lands. If he would become a regular human, or if belief would travel with him. And how one would change their allegiance, if they grew up with an experience of living, incarnated gods. 

Love stronger than death, though. Is there anything like that in their own myths ? 

"Wow, that's so romantic." The blonde next to the storyteller says, in a dreamy voice. 

"Or kinda creepy, no ? Depending on how you look at it. Like...necromancy." Her friend, a tall guy with dark hair, chimes in.

"Don't be an idiot, it's a metaphor, right?" 

"Yes and no...maybe." The girl who told the story says, mischievously. 

"Do your gods also reincarnate as humans ?" 

"Yes...but not as often as yours."

"Yeah, our gods are attention whores." The dark-haired guy says, and his friends laugh. They have absolutely no idea, Lucas realizes then, that he is sitting in the presence of three of them. Lucas can’t help but smile, and Basile and Daphné, sitting on the other side of the fire, are laughing too. He’s not taking it too personally, he’d take friendly roasting over pompous reverence anyday and to be honest...they’re not wrong. The Olympians’ lives are known to be very dramatic and very involved in human affairs. It’s exhausting to live through, and it must be exhausting to witness as well. 

“Our death god is not as cool as yours,” the blonde says. “He’s kinda...very stern and dark and scary. So scary he has to trick his wife-to-be into staying with him by making her eat enchanted pomegranate seeds. That’s truly creepy, if you ask me.” 

Lucas feels something cold trickle into his heart, amidst the mellow atmosphere, and he can feel Eliott turn rigid against him. 

“Well, that’s not in all the stories, though.” The dark haired guy says. “Some say that it’s his wife’s choice, that she knows what she is doing.” 

“How much of a choice is it, if she’s already been pushed to make it by circumstances, isn’t it an illusion ? If she doesn’t even know…”

Basile yawns loudly. “Alright guys, who wants marshmallows to roast over the fire ? Show me your hands !” 

Bless Basile, honestly. Lucas feels unsettled. Vague references to the gods are one thing, but hearing the dilemmas that have haunted his entire life so casually discussed is something else. Suddenly, he wants to go home. 

He waits for a while, toasts a marshmallow half-heartedly, but then it’s Eliott who asks if he is ready to go, and he thankfully confirms. They say their polite goodbyes - Daphné and Basile are slated to go back to the city the next day, and he will bring news and their greetings to the rest of the gods. Then Mr. Savary gives them a lift back to the little cottage, boasting about how happy he is that the evening went well, thanking them for their participation and telling them they are welcome for dinner anytime they wish. 

When they finally find themselves alone in their little cottage again, the silence feels slightly strange, and he can’t help but notice that Eliott is just as nervous as he is. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Lucas says, vague on purpose. The truth is that he doesn’t have the strength to address the future, still. Is he running out of time ? Is Eliott starting to regret the enormous - the downright mythical - implications of what they are doing ? Is he starting to have doubts about his place in all this ? 

They need to talk. Tomorrow, he tells himself, as they both slip into bed, huddling close as has become their routine. Tomorrow, he will be braver, he hopes, as he clings to Eliott a little tighter than usual. Tomorrow. 

  
  


…

  
  


Tomorrow turns into a languid, slow day, and at no point there comes a moment where it feels appropriate for them to talk. They spend a lot of time in bed scrolling mindlessly on their phones, they take a three hour long nap, Eliott paints a bit, Lucas takes a tour of the garden to see if there is anything that could still use his input. He realizes, with a bit of a shock, that for the first time since he and Eliott got together...he’s starting to get bored. So far away from the city and all his usual busy life, his mind is starting to feel restless. He’s felt the high of new love for almost a week, non stop, but it’s starting to dip, just a little. Enough for those sharp and restless thorns to crowd his mind again. That's why he used to fill his time with work, challenges, meetings, boxing, parties, anonymous bodies, any high he could chase - no time to think. 

He can’t stop thinking about those people's words around the bonfire. He wonders - if the conversation turned to Persephone, what would they have said ? Made her a figure of pity, the eternal victim ? He built an empire to upset fate. And then he realized it was empty, because it was just reaction. But running away, isn't that the same ? The skeptic part of him has trouble believing in a revolution in New Athens. The most likely outcome is grim, his friends forced to flee or worse. Aren't rebellions against fate always doomed to fail ? That's what the myths say, anyway, or at least the ones told over and over again in school. Prometheus, who disobeyed the gods to give fire to the humans, chained to a rock with his liver perpetually being eaten by an eagle. Arachne, turned into a spider for daring to claim her weaving skills surpassed Athena's. Bellerophon, trying to fly to Olympus to reach a place among the gods. The core is still the same ; defiance gets the most bitter punishment. 

He's been given an immortal spark ; but he's still a fragile thing, deep down, human all the way through. He's been given something incredible, but all he wants is to play house with a beautiful man and forget about his troubles. He has trouble imagining himself as strong enough to go against all the laws of the gods.

Days go past again, time blurring, and life is still honey sweet and slow, but now there is this undercurrent of doubt that is difficult to ignore, as is the knowledge that they need to talk and haven't yet. For some reason, Eliott seems just as reluctant to engage in deeper conversation, and Lucas can't help but think he must be struggling with his own demons, but he doesn't know him well enough to know how to help him with those. He can't even deal with his own, anyway. And so, this miraculous gateway to intimacy that they have been building between themselves becomes troubled again. He can feel the distance when they're in each other's arms slowly grow larger.

He tries to ignore it. Tries to focus on the high of Eliott's closeness, of the intensity of his eyes, the silk of his skin, the cleverness of his words of comfort. The beauty of the countryside, the cosyness of their cottage, the satisfying food. But there is still this dark thing niggling at the corner of his mind that won't shut up. As if he forgot something he was supposed to remember, to know already. If he was to thinks about it too much, it would drive him crazy, so he just...doesn't. Hoping that somehow more time will solve it all.

  
...  
  
  


One night, he wakes up in bed, alone, and panic washes over him like a groundswell. He can't lose Eliott, he thinks with the harebrained clarity of the very early hours. He's just got him. He's just started to see that life can have a purpose beyond avoiding fate. He's just started to heal, from years and years of having nothing of importance and no one that really saw him and he can feel how vulnerable he is, and it's so fucking scary. But maybe realizing how much he's started to depend on Eliott is even more terrifying. 

His throat feels tight, heart beating too loud, and he wrestles through his sleepiness to stumble upwards, find his clothes and go outside, where Eliott must be. Has to be. 

Yes. He is, sitting on one of the rickety forged iron chairs, looking at the clear night sky. 

He hears Lucas arrive, speaks up without turning his head. 

"The stars are so visible here." His voice is rough with sleep. "Can you imagine never seeing them again ?"

What ? That doesn't make any sense. Did he have a nightmare or something ?

"The stars are always going to be there. Come back to bed, baby. Please."

Eliott stays silent for a moment. When he finally turns around, Lucas briefly thinks that he sees his eyes glimmer in the moonlight, as if wet. But why would he be crying ? Why now ? Lucas must be projecting his own emotional instability. 

"Is there something wrong ? Are you okay ?"

Eliott steps forward, and hugs him, tightly.

"Everything's fine." He says into Lucas's hair.

Lucas's anxieties splutter weakly, grousing in his chest, but they are no match to the soothing power of Eliott's presence. It's almost uncanny, he thinks, the effect Eliott has on his mood, and for a moment he feels completely adrift - tied to a comet, with no possibility to choose to get off. But it passes, and then he's just tired and sleepy, and when they crawl back into bed and cuddle up against each other, all he is is a young man who wants to feel the love of his life as close as possible.

...

The next morning, they go to the farmer's market again. Lucas wants to make pies, one savory and one sweet, and so they stack their bags with indolent peaches and juicy bell peppers and goat cheese and plums and sprays of rosemary, and they walk back. Lucas is in a good mood again ; he wants to hum or whistle. The weather is strange, little sheepish clouds chased by the wind. Eliott's hat is brushed away by a gust, and he has to put down his backpack to run after it, returning very out of breath. 

"You know, you're kind of out of shape for a bodyguard," Lucas quips. "Maybe we should go running again." 

"Really ? I thought we were getting plenty of exercise," Eliott grins. "Besides, it's not the effort, it's the surprise, and the alarm. That's why I'm out of it." 

"Hm. Sure. Maybe we should be more active, just in case." Lucas laughs, with a skeptical tone. He's just teasing, he's had a lot of proof Eliott is in prime physical condition. Besides, what is going to happen to them here ?

They walk up to the little path that leads to the back of the cottage. 

"Hey, did you leave the stove on ?" He says, as he watches a plume of smoke rise from the little stone chimney. 

"No," Eliott frowns. "I threw water on it before we left." 

Weird. Evanescent unease collects at the bottom of Lucas's stomach. But he's probably just being paranoid. 

"Well, maybe you missed a spot and then it kept burning." 

"Yeah...maybe it's Miss Chapuis who came to check on us." 

"It's not thieves, right ? There's no fucking way they would light a fire..."

Eliott shrugs, and then grabs a shovel that was leaning against a tree. "I'm still your bodyguard," he grins. 

"Alright baby, protect me against the wayward coals, or our little old landlady," Lucas flirts back, and Eliott smiles back at him. They're always so good in action, as a team, no matter how small the stakes. 

They unlock and enter through the backdoor.

There is someone standing there, and in the dim light of the cottage, Lucas doesn't see who it is immediately.

And it takes his brain several seconds to process it, too.

because it's WRONG.

The cottage is mostly how they left it this morning, rumpled sheets on the more dubious side of used, rests of their breakfast on the table mixed with Eliott's paint ustensils, a dirty pair of boxers thrown on a chair, a towel on the ground. It's messy, it's intimate, it's their little bubble, not fit for being seen by the world, and having someone there feels like a horrible intrusion. But that's not all. In fact, that's probably the least of all their problems. 

Eliott's shovel clatters to the ground.

The intruder is holding Eliott's painting, the one with Lucas and the rose, and absurdly, that's the first thing Lucas notices, and he wants to tell him to put it the fuck down immediately. 

"Well, that's very well done. So you are a flower maiden after all, huh ?" Swarmy smile, impossible white teeth, sharp suit.

Charles Munier cuts a surreal picture against the old fashioned homeliness of the cottage ; two eras of his life clashing together. 

Fear rises like the tide, frying his brain. Eliott steps forward. "What the fuck are you doing here ? How did you find us ?"

Zeus's smile becomes even larger, so large it could almost stretch his face off. "Funny you would ask that. Let's say...I'm checking out the competition." 

What ?

"I was helping out the Fates's special task force, looking at some footage of your escape, and I couldn't help but wonder...how the hell would a mortal face off against the god-cops ? And that's when it all became clear to me. You're a clever one, aren't you ? Playing the long game." He's still adressing Eliott. 

Lucas's head swims in confusion. What the fuck is he talking about ? 

"Our dear Persephone, with her uppity demeanour and her detestable temper. Quite a puzzle, I would say, the taming of this shrew. It would make sense, to want to approach her in an...unthreatening manner. Gain her trust, slowly. And look at her now. As soft as a lamb."

Fear turns to unspeakable dread, as he starts to discern the shape of the meaning of Charles' words. He feels like a wounded prey, slowly watching the jaws of the trap close but still incapable of moving, frozen.

"I don't know what you mean." Eliott responds, but his voice is weird. Weird, weird, weird. 

"Oh don't play stupid. It doesn't befall you..." Zeus marks a pause, savouring every word. "...Hades." 

  
A moment of silence. This - no. This is impossible. He would have known. And it's Eliott, sweet Eliott, who cries while looking at the stars - he never would have lied - Eliott with his impossible magician powers, with his energies responding so well to Lucas's, with his control of the undead, with his grounding touch - no, no, no -

"You're full of shit," Lucas's agression claws out as a first response. 

Zeus laughs. And then he extends his arms towards Eliott, and unleashes his full powers against him. Out of nowhere, lightning fills the room, all directed towards the corner of the room in which Eliott stands. Lucas's first answer is to try and get in the middle, but he is thrown backwards by the forcefield, back hitting the chest of drawers. He cries out to Eliott, but he can't see anything anymore ; the room fills with dust and rubble and smoke and flashes of light. A horrible charred smell fills his nose and his brain supplies the most awful images.

He scrabbles up. The lightning stills. The fog clears. He can't see Eliott's face against the light, but he can see - he's still standing. He doesn't seem hurt. First comes relief. Then, realization.

Lucas's state of denial cracks, one inch from total shattering. There is no way a mortal man could have survived that. "Eliott," he pleads. "Tell me he's wrong. Tell me you aren't...please, tell me...I can't..." He tries to reach out with his energy, but everything is strangely muted, numb, confusing. Shock has made him into a stupid animal. 

Then a sound resonates in the cottage ; not the soft reassurance he was looking for. It's a laugh. Eliott is laughing. 

Lucas's heart unhooks from its anchor, thrown into utter bewilderment. 

"Baby, please..." Gods, he sounds so weak, even to his own ears. He sounds like everything he's ever despised.

"You know," Eliott speaks, his voice so much haughtier than he's ever heard him, almost the voice of a stranger, "I really thought you'd be more work. But you were so fucking easy."

After the fall, comes the shattering. 

No, this can't - 

He feels his fragile energy, then, how it has radiated all over the place, to the garden, and entertwined with Eliott - and a horrible contraction of sadness almost drowns him, then, how beautiful they were, but it was fake, it was all fake, and fuck, it hurts so much - 

_Lucas, you fucking moron. You weak, pathetic creature. Did you really think it would be this easy ? Did you really think you would get something so good ? You ? You coward, heartless joke of a man ? That perfect stranger who know perfectly how to get under your skin ? Did you ever stop and think it was too good to be true ? That it was specifically designed to make you fall for it, that shy but protective, silent stoic with a heart of gold, troubled poet soul bullshit ? Didn't you realize Hades would know how to play you to perfection ? Don't you know that fate always gets its due ?_

His fears dance out in the midday sun, their grotesque faces wearing the flush of satisfaction, in a macabre parade of victory. Dark lucidity hits him. He's alone, like he has always been, like he should always be. 

His hopes collapse on him, and when it's done, it hits a core of snarling iron. 

"No." He says. No to fucking fate, no to Hades and to Zeus, no to this whole fucking bullshit. "You can all burn." He brutally pulls all his power back. Hades collapses, and outside, he can see trees fall. And then he raises his arms, and blue flames rain out of his arms. This, he realizes. This is the other side of Persephone. Destruction, entropy, pure chaos. 

This is where he was headed all along. Not the hell that wants to eat him, but the hell he's going to raise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah it's the almost that's the kicker :( sorry
> 
> Ehh I know we all wanted them to have a discussion (and don't worry, it will come eventually. But first, time for DRAMA and ANGST - but hey before the comfort gotta have the hurt right ?) but we all know that's not our raccoon's forte. This is greek myth, after all, so gotta have a tiny tiny bit of tragedy and protagonists fucked over by their own fatal flaws. But that was quite a dramatic turn, wasn't it ? Did it work for you ? Let's discuss ^^


	15. Chapter 14 : Eliott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is it a light at the end of the tunnel, or is it just a lure ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys ! sorry for the unplanned hiatus, life has been a lot lately. Hope you like this chapter, regardless. It's...Very Angsty, all hurt no comfort. But also Serious Business. We are really hitting the core of the plot now.
> 
> content warning : bad mental headspace, ghosts and general spookiness, non-graphic injuries, vaguely suicidal ideation

_Chapter 14 - Eliott._

"Don't play stupid. It doesn't befall you…Hades."

Charles Munier stands there, face unbearably smug, and brutally pulls Eliott's worst secret into the light. And in an instant, his whole world collapses on itself.

"You're full of shit." Lucas's first reaction, denial, is a bittersweet balm - he trusts Eliott too much to imagine him lying.

Which is exactly what he did.

Eliott stands there, powerless against the assault of truth. He feels utterly naked, and petrified. This is what he has been most afraid of for the last eight years of his life. His worst fear, come to pass in the most damaging moment possible. Now that he has something - everything - to lose.

Suddenly, lightning fills the room. He registers Munier raising his arms towards him, then a fierce pain hitting his chest and radiating through his entire body. But a dark force rises within him and absorbs the electricity and the hurt, and keeps him upright. He is still compressed by the avalanche of energy around him, and he can't move, but it doesn't destroy him as it should, were he only human.

Which is probably the point. Now Lucas is going to see, to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he -

Finally it ends. He blinks - the entire room is filled with dust, smoke, the cottage half destroyed. Everything around him seems distorted - the sights, the sounds. Someone speaking. There is a distant laughter. His ears are ringing, his head woozy. He feels utterly confused.

He feels Lucas nudge at the energy bonds that tie them together, the way he can feel Lucas on his skin, in his veins, in his dreams, in his heart - and for a moment he has a silly hope, that Lucas is trying to reach him without talking, to affirm their connection. 

But then Lucas yanks on their bond, and brutally tears it apart, clawing back his power and taking Eliott's in the process. 

  
  
  


Eliott falls to his knees. 

  
  


The pain is unbearable. This is the worst thing he has ever felt in his entire life. Echoing darkness hammers through his bones, searing grief and shame, centuries of loneliness, the sensation of being crushed into dust. He knows something has been taken from him, something he will never get back. 

The smoke is starting to clear and he can see Lucas's face again, and the sight terrifies him.

His eyes are aglow with blue fire, and little blue flames are crowning his head. His expression is merciless.

"No. You can all burn." He says, voice sharp as steel. 

Munier snarls. "Seriously ? Are you threatening me ?" He raises lightning into his hands again but Persephone is quicker, a ball of flame coming out of nowhere and swallowing Munier's hands. Munier yelps in surprise and pain and clutches them against his chest but the fire catches onto his jacket. Next thing they know, he disappears into a puff of smoke. So he can teleport, too, now. Gods. 

And then it's just them again, in the ruined cottage.

"Yes, that was a threat," Lucas says to the empty air.

"Lucas…" Eliott pleads, voice barely a coarse whisper. His head is swimming with vertigo, and he is teetering, on the edge of collapsing into the void he feels inside. Hades is stirring and Eliott tries to call on him, but he is weak, just as weak as him, defeated and rejected by the only one that matters. 

Lucas looks down on him, and from his hands new flames pour, not to Eliott but to targets around him. To the table, and the rest of their breakfast. Then the bed - their bed. And the painting Eliott made of Lucas and the rose, his face painted with that trusting languid expression that feels utterly surreal now - the magic they made together. Disappearing into cold blue flame. Tears well in Eliott's eyes.

Lucas talks, and his voice is cold, emotionless. 

"I'm not your lamb, not your bride. And if you ever come near me again, I'll destroy you." 

Eliott believes him. He can't say anything. His throat is tied into a knot.

Lucas turns his back on him, and leaves the cottage without turning back once.

  
  


Eliott crumbles to the floor.

  
  
  
  


…

  
  


He doesn't know how long he stays there, paralyzed by shock and horror.

  
  


He could have been in real danger, but the fire is cold, and burns only the things Lucas targeted : the table, the painting, the bed. When they're nothing but charred piles of ash, it dies with a strange crackle. 

And then there is a pop, a cloud of smoke, and Charles Munier reappears. Maybe he was just hiding. Fucking coward, only taking a stand if he is sure to win. His hands look severely singed, if not outright burned. Eliott feels a dark sense of satisfaction at that. 

"Pathetic." He says. "Well, at least he took you out. Get up, you're coming with me. The Fates will know I haven't entirely wasted their time."

Glum fear pervades his body, but he still can't move. His eyes are still working, though. And, appearing out of thin air, he can see there is now someone standing on the open door step of the house.

It's a kid, with matted long hair and torn clothes, looking lost. 

What the...

  
  


No, scratch that. 

  
  
  


It _was_ a kid.

  
  


It's not anymore. He can see light shine right through it - whatever it is. Probably a ghost, but Eliott's capacities are too burned out to confirm anything. 

Munier reaches down and then yanks him up, grip on Eliott's arm bruising. He goes along with it, but his whole body feels like it's been repeatedly dropped from a moving car. And he absolutely loathes Munier getting so close and familiar. 

The ghost opens its mouth and out comes a guttural, inhuman noise. 

Munier turns, and swears. "What the fuck is it now ?" He is clearly straining to keep the terror out of his voice and appear composed.

The apparition's eyes start whirring wildly in its sockets, and its jaw unhinges, becoming impossibly wide. It takes a menacing step forward. 

"Oh fuck this shit, I'm out." And then the almighty Zeus disappears again, letting go of Eliott and fleeing the threat.

Eliott looks at the ghostly kid, and instinctively knows what to do. He opens his arms, in a reassuring motion. The creature walks into his embrace. It is so cold, cold like a corpse, and so lost and sad and scared. Eliott is lost and sad, too. But Eliott is not afraid. He knows that the ghost doesn't mean him harm - cannot harm him.

  
  


He is the lord of the Dead. And he cannot hide anymore. 

  
  
  


…

  
  
  


He doesn't bother gathering anything of his possessions. He just takes his coat, and walks out. The ghost is at his side, face returned to normal, snotty nose and a scratch on the cheek. 

At the far end of the path that leads to the cottage, he can see something big, moving towards him.

  
  
  


It's a horse. 

  
  


And it's also very much _not_ a horse, he realizes as it comes closer. Deep sunken eyes glowing red like embers, a too-long neck, its coat a pale yellowish-grey, his skin so tight on its skeletal body Eliott can see every single rib and vertebrae even from afar. There is a tattered, empty saddle on his back, made of black leather. Behind the creature, the sky has prematurely darkened, sour with heavy clouds, wind howling through the trees and shaking the landscape, giving it an apocalyptic cast.

It's here for him. It walks up to him, with its gait unnaturally pronounced, an assemblage of animated, shambling bones. 

And then it stops. And it stares at him. As if waiting for him to climb on.

  
  


And Eliott knows exactly where it wants to take him.

  
  
  


A wave of revulsion passes through him. His usual flight reflexes kick in for a minute. He won't ; he'll run to the ends of the Earth if he has to. 

But then a wave of infinite exhaustion passes through him. He is so fucking tired. For a few miraculous days, he thought he wouldn't have to run, and his entire being revolts at the idea of having to go back there. To return to his previous state - the cold, the loneliness, the perpetual rejection, the thankless jobs for ungrateful people, the instability. And now, knowing what he had lost...hell almost sounds friendlier.

Gods, why hadn't he told Lucas ? He had meant to. He wanted to. He had decided to, on that evening under the rain, right before that first kiss that had felt like coming home. 

But Lucas had asked him for time, and again the next day. He should have insisted, he should have told Lucas that his truth couldn't wait. But he was weak. He wanted to humor Lucas, let him recuperate. And he had been afraid. Those few days together had felt so desperately fragile, and so impossible, like holding a soap bubble in his hands. And it had felt so, so right, and yet, deep down, he hadn't believed it was meant to last. He had let fear triumph over love. 

And he will regret it forever. 

  
  


But he can't…

Gods, it hurts so much. He can barely think, barely breathe. It's as if somebody carved his heart out of his ribcage and left only the ghost of it beating.

The horse whinnies softly. It is a very animal sound, very ordinary. It takes him out of his head.

  
  
  


He tries to push through the haze, the pain, the awful heartrending sadness lying in wait. 

  
  


He thinks about Lucas and the pain in his eyes when he'd left. That is the most awful thing to him. That maybe he thinks Eliott's plan was to deceive him and then use him to bolster his own power, like Munier suggested. 

  
  


That all they shared was…fake somehow.

That Lucas told him that his life had been a long parade of betrayals, that he had found the courage to open up again, and then that Eliott had smiled and offered him his love only to plan to stab him in the back later.

Fuck. That is just so heartbreakingly awful. 

All that matters now is...he understands Lucas's anger. It is justified in so many ways. He understands if Lucas never wants to see him again. But he needs to let Lucas know. That...he had his reasons for hiding, but that he was sincere in his feelings. That Charles's accusations were manipulative, twisted and utterly false. That Lucas is worthy of love, even if he deserves to be loved by a braver man than Eliott. That his presence at his side was compelled, at first by a sense of duty and responsibility, then by annoyed protectiveness, then by genuine affection, and then finally by love. But never by a calculated quest for power.

  
  


That's it, isn't it ? Lucas has been terrified of losing power, of being at the mercy of someone more powerful than he is, and Charles played right into that.

But maybe Lucas would have been incredibly upset regardless of how the truth came out. It was messed up, he realizes in hindsight, to hide the true depth of his power from Lucas and let them fall in love. Even if it was a power he wasn't connected to at the time. Even if he feels like a shrivelled husk now that Lucas yanked most of it away, so he might never have been able to overpower Persephone anyway. 

He needs to prove to Lucas that it wasn't power he was after. But how ? Lucas has no reason to believe anything that comes out of Eliott's mouth right now.

He looks at the horse, and slowly, the outline of an idea forms into his mind. It terrifies him, absolutely. But right now, what Lucas thinks of him is the most important thing in the universe, and the fear of being despised by him is scarier than any of his old fears. 

  
  


He reaches into his old bag, and grabs his phone. There is no internet reception here but the call function works, so he calls the service line that can connect him to any number.

The operator laughs at his demand, but he assures her sternly that she will want to take him seriously. Thankfully, she does.

He has to push past a number of assistants, too, but it's similarly not very hard. Maybe it's his tone of voice. Maybe they simply don't want to take the risk.

Finally, he gets the voice he really means to talk to. 

"Hello ? This had better not be a prank, young man."

He recognizes her voice from TV.

"It's not, Lachesis."

She is the Fate that is said to weave the events of men's lives together. He can picture her face - tight black curls, smooth face belying her age, blue eyes with a haunted look in them.

"I _am_ Hades. And I want to come in."

She exhales. Laughs, coldly.

"Well, well. Finally. Tired of running, are you ?" 

"I'll do the rituals and everything. I have a condition, though. I want you to tell me if there is an option for me and Lucas - Persephone - to be unlinked."

If there is a way, then he can tell Lucas he has a choice. He won't make it himself, but Lucas can.

She laughs. It's cruel. "That cannot be done. As long as you both play those roles, you will be bound together. It is natural law, as sure as the turn of the season, as sure as night follows day."

He swears. There has to be some sort of way…

"Then...is there a way for the divine essence to be removed from us ? Without us dying, I mean."

She stays silent for a long moment. So long Eliott almost wonders if she hung up. Then -

"This is blasphemy."

"Oh come on. I know you would be relieved. Neither of us are the poster children for good godly behavior, aren't we ?"

He knows he should be more diplomatic, but he is so far past caring.

Another pause. Then she responds, voice careful. 

"There is an old myth that goes like this...in a cave deep below the Underworld, lies the refuge of Ananke, the oldest goddess of the world. If we are Fate, then she is Necessity. She makes the fiber of the thread that we weave. She is the one that chooses which humans will become gods. The myth also says that, if a god were to drink from her cauldron, they would become human again."

"So I could get there. Via the Underworld. Bring back some of that - whatever is in her cauldron for us." 

"Yes. But remember - you and Persephone are linked. If one of you drinks, the other will lose his powers as well." 

"That doesn't matter." Lucas having a choice is all that matters. Lucas can choose to remain Persephone, and live it, not like a curse that has been pushed on him, but as his own decision. Or he can choose to chuck it all away, take his money and leave for another city far away, where he can start his life again - free of the scrutiny, the invasiveness, the expectations. And Eliott doesn't care about what happens to himself. He will prove to Lucas that he doesn't care about his own powers, that he never even... 

He doesn't explain that to Lachesis, though. Maybe the Fate thinks he would take Lucas's power away without asking and it would save her a lot of trouble. He lets her believe whatever suits her ; it's none of her business anyway. She tells him to come to the Office of the Fates and they will sort it all out. She gives him a time, too, five forty five in the afternoon. He doesn't write it down. He just tells her he will be there when he will be there, and he hangs up.

He climbs onto the horse. It isn't comfortable, he can feel the creature's bones digging into his thighs. But it doesn't matter. He is miles away from his own body.

The horse starts walking, wind slapping Eliott's hair in his face.

He gets a flashback of Lucas playing with his curls as they were laying in bed, and his heart crimps in on itself. The pain is physical, as if part of his inner organs were ripped away, he just didn't know which ones exactly.

He cannot afford to think about it all. He just needs to find the strength to keep going. After a while, his mind settles into a welcome grey numbness. 

…

As the horse settles into a regular pace, the world starts to blur around him. It’s as if a filter of grey had been deposited over his sight, making everything wan and colorless. He can still see clearly, though, the vague forms and silhouettes that start to appear on his path. The first is just a grey smudge among the trees on the side of the road - he blinks and then it’s gone, and he thinks it must have been just an illusion. 

But then there’s another one, on the way ahead of them, and in this one he can clearly see the outline of a human face, blurred and distorted. It comes towards them, and then simply falls into step next to the ghostly child that is still there. 

More and more come, until it becomes an outright procession, in silent motion to the side and then behind the horse. His silent companions seem to glide more than walk, and Eliott can feel the foreboding chill that emanates from them. Usually, he would be able to shield himself, but it’s as if Lucas took away all his capacity for magic from him, and soon he feels cold to the bone. But it suits his mood. After a while, it starts to rain, and when the first towers of the city finally break the horizon, he is soaked through and through. The travel time might have been unusually fast, or taken almost an entire day - he can’t tell, and he can’t tell what time of day it is either. 

His cohort has grown enormous. It must be several hundred ghosts, by now. Some of them are very well defined, some merely vague shapes without any identifiable age, gender or physical features. And they are humming, Eliott realizes as they approach the East city gate, a low buzzing sound that is getting louder and louder. The horse’s appearance has changed, too. He feels further away from the ground, and he can see pale leathery wings now, grown out of the horse’s shoulders, and horns on his head. It should freak him out, but he’s really past caring. 

The guards at the gate’s faces decompose as they see him arrive. They walk forward, as if they had some intention to stop him, but as he comes closer, they become pale, and their arms drop to their sides along with their weapons, and they just look at them in terror as Eliott and his ghostly following enter the city. 

He doesn’t know how he finds the Office of the Fates without any map - he doesn’t know how the horse knows where to go without directions on his part, either - but it doesn’t really matter. 

A pang of familiar fear cuts through the numbness, though, as he sees the building, massive and grey and foreboding with its concrete columns and sparse architecture. He spent so long being terrified of this place - of what it represented. And now, he’s about to walk into it of his own accord. He sees himself move forward as if in a dream. But there is no part of himself that wants to stop. 

The horse takes him to the massive entrance doors. There are some security guards there, and they are obviously trained, as they ask him to get off his horse and pass through the security check. Eliott stares at them. They show signs of fear, but hold their ground. Two start muttering what is clearly an incantation to ward off the dead. But this is an army. There is only one power capable to hold so many of them back, and it’s currently leading them. 

He walks through. The horse-creature swings one of its bony, bat-like demon wings, sending the metal gate of the security detector crashing to the other side of the entrance hall, and then it passes through. Its hooves clatter on the marble ground, an eerie echoing sound that blends into the humming of the ghosts. Everyone inside the building - guards, supplicants, priests and worshippers, unlucky few just passing by - wear faces of awe, confusion, terror. He doesn’t linger on any of them. 

  
  


Lachesis arrives, surrounded by her priests and priestesses. They are all wearing the same color of deep red - her gown is queenly, with vivid folds and a crown of silver on her head. 

“You’re late, Eliott Demaury.” A few hours or eight years, who cares ? Of course, she figured out who he is. And she is using his mortal name to remind him of how much practice she has than him at being an avatar of a deity. Was she ever human, he wonders ? How come he’s never seen her age ? Is seeming immortality part of the role of a Fate ? Or is it just an illusion ? 

Her tone is short, clipped, angry. She wants to make him smaller, to intimidate him. But Eliott Demaury has never felt more distant. 

“Well ?” She bristles at his lack of reply. “Get off this ridiculous creature, and follow us to the main temple, so we can accomplish the ceremony.” 

His instincts warn him that walking into a ritual set up they prepared might be a bad idea. 

“No. Let’s do the ritual here.” 

She scowls. 

“This is already highly irregular, and we are being very patient with you, but…”

Her scolding tone flies right over his head.

It’s all so...petty. 

  
  


Then he notices, coming from both sides, god-cops in their finest livery - a lot of them, a whole battalion. 

  
  


His powers aren’t back. And yet, somehow, he knows they won’t be able to approach him. And he’s right. The ghosts that have come with him create a barrier ; the god-cops that try to breach it become very pale and faint. Some even piss themselves. Some mutter spells, fire bullets, get out magical swords. It doesn’t matter. The restless dead are beyond their grasp. 

The attacks clearly unnerves the ghosts, though, and they become less and less human in shape. Ghastly wails, tails and tongues and claws lashing out, scales and feathers, too many teeth, too many eyes. A vein pops in Lachesis’ pale neck. Maybe she realizes that turning this into a problem is to her disadvantage. 

“Alright, we don’t have time to deal with this. If a rushed affair is what you want, then it’s what you will have. Don’t come crying to me afterwards when the press makes you out to be some sort of hick.” 

Trying to appeal to his pride, now. He’d expected more from one of the women he’s spent his life terrified of. She’s just a queen bee, relying on mean words to keep people in line in her popularity contest. He doesn't budge. During his travel, he has started to feel more and more like stone, movement appearing more and more superfluous. She gestures to her minions and some of them disappear into the depths of the temple. They come back a minute later, carrying various ritual implements, black candles and skulls - how cliche, really, and how ridiculous when his own ghosts are ten times scarier than this hokey regalia. 

The main item is an ornate chest, made of dark, old wood and inlaid with silver and dark stones and something that looks a lot like carved bone. That thing, he can sense very clearly, holds real power. 

The minions start muttering incantations in old Greek, in a somewhat hurried, but still appropriately mournful tone. He has a feeling they want to be done with this as soon as possible. 

Lachesis opens the box, and the room, already cold, turns freezing. She mutters something into her hands, and then reaches into it - and brings out a crown.

It looks very old, and crudely made - a band of iron adorned with cruel spikes - but there is something so very different about it. Pure, concentrated power - Eliott senses it immediately, as do the ghosts, shivering around him. It's like nothing he has ever felt before in his life. He is absolutely terrified, as if standing on the edge of a yawning darkness without any railing. And yet, he cannot turn his gaze away. He knows that something inside it is calling to him. He knows it belongs to him. He knows that wearing this crown will change him forever and it's both horrifying and absolutely magnetic.

  
  


Lachesis stares at him. It’s clear she’s not moving one inch further - he will have to go to her. In the back of his mind, a voice tells him that it isn’t a good idea, but he is too captivated to put too much thought into it. It’s there - all the power he spent his life running away from, and now…now it’s here, so close, and resisting its pull is impossible. He was made for this - he’s spent his days in a wretched half-life because this was always what was missing, all along. 

  
  


Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s climbed down his horse and is walking towards Lachesis with stumbling steps, ghosts parting around him. 

Her face turns smug. He stops, and remembers why he’s here. 

“Wait…” His voice is strained with the effort of resisting the pull. “First, tell me...how to get to Ananke’s cave.” 

The smile disappears. 

“My, my, what a martyr you are...already thinking of how to give up your power before you even have accepted it...you truly are a match to that hellion Persephone of yours, just as unfittingly cowardly as he is unruly...I really do hope Ananke will rid us of you both soon. Getting there is quite simple.. The Underworld is full of roots. Simply follow them to their natural destination, and you will find her. Of course, there will be many perils on your way. I do not give much to your ability to triumph...But either way, we will be rid of you, very soon. So don’t let me stop you.” She raises the crown further, with an impatient gesture. 

He frowns. Following the roots ? That’s a very paltry set of instructions. 

_The Underworld is our domain,_ Hades says in the back of his head. _Just take...the crown._ His voice is very strange, as if distorted. 

  
  


Eliott cannot resist anymore, and he moves forward - so fast his own brain doesn’t register it. One moment he is still standing apart, the next he is in front of Lachesis, there is a flash of red light, his heart contracts, and he feels a circle of metal being set on his head. 

  
  


It’s so cold it burns, and so, so heavy. It clamps onto his head as if it were alive, as if the metal was fusing into his skull. 

There is a moment where all he can think is _get this thing off me,_ and then - everything inside him crumbles, implodes, melts down - all at once.

He falls to his knees, the gravity of the earth suddenly irresistible. Each of his limbs feels so weighty. From far away, he can hear Lachesis’s scathing laugh. 

The entity he formerly identified as Hades, within his mind, comes forward, and the boundaries between him and Eliott’s conscious mind start to fade, and it is not the roaring, cheerful presence Eliott had started to get used to, but an austere, foreboding wave of dread that invades his thoughts. 

He sees flashes of emotions and memories that are not his own - the previous Hades, no doubt. A heavy sensation of disappointment. Broken guitars, a crumbling palace, loneliness and frustration. Repetitive hangovers blurring into neverending stupor, the rich Underworld wine never enough to quiet his mind. The despair at having artistic inspiration completely sapped out of him by his divine powers. An audience of the dead, completely lifeless as he plays. Days and years melting into one, and the Underworld growing feral the longer it is uncared for. A strong drive to puke his guts out. 

And before that, the shadows of other incarnations. A stern woman with an ice cold mind, letting duty turn her into living stone. A man with temper outbursts so severe he would create storms of burning hail and hellfire within his domain, raining down on all the souls in his keeping. A wisp thin woman, so frail and lifeless she became just one more ghost among all the rest. So much bitterness, so much misery, a divine assignment like a cage. Not much better than being buried alive. 

He wants to claw at his own throat, at his own head, get rid of the weight, but when he touches the crown it is scalding, and he cannot take it off. For a moment, he is ready to lose it, his mind distorted under the pressure and the accumulated despair. 

Then he feels a cool touch at the back of his head. His horse-creature, nudging him gently. It’s enough to make him regain awareness of the outside world.

  
  


He grasps onto the horse’s neck with trembling hands, and uses it to help himself rise back onto his feet. Everything is swaying around him and he cannot bear to look at anyone. Suddenly, all he wants to do is hide. This doesn’t feel like power, but like being naked in the middle of a crowd. He feels so vulnerable he wants to cry. 

Thankfully, he manages to heave himself up back in the saddle - his horse has to use his wings to make sure he doesn’t fall. Pathetic. Maybe Lachesis was right. 

...

There is a brief moment of satisfaction when they breach the air again. It’s dark now. The ghosts are still following him, but they feel a lot stranger now. They are more defined, more human - and he can feel each and everyone of them, their presence, their emotions, their unrest. Some of them are angry at him, some worried, a lot simply confused and lost. Some are happy he is finally back among them. But all of them are waiting, for him to show them the way. And that’s...he doesn’t know what to do with that. He feels utterly adrift. He’d always imagined that, if he’d ever find himself in a position to accept his powers, he would come out on the other side a terrifying, mighty force of nature. Not this....feeling as if his skin is wrongly attached to his bones, and that awful pressure against his head, and the creeping cold, and all the dreadful memories. Maybe he waited too long ; maybe he isn’t suited for the job anymore. Maybe the power was stagnant for too many years. His body feels broken - it still works, but the energy is wrong. The emotions that imploded inside his body are calling for a shutdown. 

  
  


No. He has somewhere to be. 

  
  
  


The horse-creature starts moving faster, as if encouraged by Eliott’s renewed surge of determination. Everything around them starts to blur again and quick enough, they’re out of the city. He knows where they are going. Every fiber of his body calls for it amidst the repulsion. 

  
  


Finally.

He’s going to the Underworld. The place that has haunted all his nightmares for eight years. He can’t help but wonder how it will actually look like, how it will feel, if his fears were accurate, if it’s better or worse. 

Once, in one of his darker moods, he'd researched where the gates to the Underworld were situated. The biggest one, closest to New Athens, is at the heart of a gigantic cemetary park, where the wealthy and illustrious are buried. So he is not surprised when he sees massive gates appear in the night. It is closed - certainly to keep vandals, grave profanators and other unseemly visitors out. But as he approaches, the heavy chains keeping the gates shut dissolve into dust. The gates open, without any prompting from his part, and a heavy metallic noise.

A light turns on in the little house at the entrance, but the face of the guardian that appears on the threshold immediately pales as he sees Eliott. Eliott looks at him, and the man falls to his knees, muttering prayers and making expiation signs. In his old life, such displays would have embarassed him. But now - now it feels right. He knows that, were the old man to try and hold his gaze in this state, it would wreck untold damage on his psyche, maybe even his vision.

It makes him shiver, this sign of how much the ritual has changed him. But he is too numb to process it properly. 

  
  


They move on, through the main path flanked by rows of headstones, statues, little mausoleums, altars to family gods and spirits. There are little long lasting candles on some of the graves, protected by magic, and they cast the place in an eerie glow. 

The horse takes him to the center of the park, towards a massive stone outcropping on a hill. As they climb, in the distance, he can see the bright lights of the city. He can't help but wonder where Lucas is now, with that extra load of power he took from Eliott. Probably getting himself in massive amounts of trouble. He hasn't known Lucas for long, but he's seen enough to know how self-destructive - and, well, destructive in general - he can be when hurt and scared. The idea of Lucas, lost, alone and angry, faced with hostile god-cops and who knows what else - fills his heart with dread. If he could, he would run to him, to beg for forgiveness, help him do whatever he wants to do, march to the Office of the Fates and reduce the building to rubble if that's what Lucas wants - but he can't. Lucas has cast him out. He can't approach him again without proof that his intent is pure, was pure from the very start.

The necessity of it burns through his mind like a torch in the dark, and it’s the only thing that keeps his willpower intact as they arrive at the top of the hill.

There, in the rock, yawns the opening of a cave. It should be large enough to let in at least some errant light from the city behind or the cemetery below or even the pale glow of the moon peeking in behind the clouds, to give him at least some clue as to what lies in wait inside. He can see the rock around the opening well enough, his eyes have always been very well adjusted to darkness. The inside of the cave, though, is pitch black. As if any light trying to enter would die on the threshold.

The Underworld guards its secrets and its own. He shivers. A bolt of pure fear runs through his body, cutting through the numbness. What the fuck is he doing ? This is the one place he promised himself he would never go. What if it doesn’t let him out anymore once he’s in ? Even if he finds the elixir and Lucas decides to terminate both their godly mandates ? 

But what else is he going to do ? Run, again ? It’s too late for that. He’s made his choice, the very moment he let Lachesis put that crown on his head. He brings his hand to his head, feeling the iron under his fingertips, and swears as he cuts himself on one of its razor sharp edges. The pain focuses his attention, makes him feel a little more real. 

Suddenly, he is on the ground. The horse is still with him, but he has to be the one to step in first. Around him, the ghosts are wailing, some low and some louder and louder. They are scared. They sense his hesitation and discomfort. But he can’t find it in himself to be strong for their sake. He can't be their guide, or ask them for help. He’s just some vagabond exorcist who managed to break the heart of the one person that ever truly loved him. His backbone is made of virulent shame and festering regret. He has no claim to their devotion.

He takes a deep breath. The air smells like humid soil, cloying in his nostrils, minerals and rain, decaying organic matter - like the inside of a grave. 

He briefly turns back, to the living world. He wishes there was a better way to say goodbye. But it all already feels dead to him. Even the stars are hidden by the clouds. 

He looks into the darkness in front of him. It calls to him, telling him that's where he belongs. He doesn't have the time to hesitate, to dither, to resist. 

So he steps into the dark. 

  
  
  


Immediately, he senses the difference. His eyes are now completely useless, and as he turns back, he cannot see the world he just left behind either. 

A sentiment of overwhelming wrong-ness is the second feeling that invades his senses. Something suffocating, in the way his life energy feels dead - still attached to him, but immobile, decaying, lifeless. It's horrible. His mouth fills with acrid smoke.

The third feeling is that he is not alone in the dark. 

_Fuck_.

He doesn't know how he knows. The place is entirely silent. And yet...He just does. Panic hammers through his throat and skull. He remembers, all of a sudden, the words of the ghost girl of the Rivers of Spirits.

  
  


_The Underworld's not safe anymore._

  
  


He came in here intending to rule. He never thought about what this place might have turned into in his absence.

_Hades_ , I need your help, he thinks really hard, hoping to awaken the gruff but jovial guide he'd come to know in his own mind. But nothing. He is Hades now. There is no distinction anymore. Nobody to give him counsel apart from his fractured, shaking mind. Maybe there never was. 

He feels so alone. This morning, still, he woke up with Lucas's warmth against his back, their legs entwined, his arm loosely slung around Eliott's waist. He'd woken early but stayed like that for a long time, so warm and content. At some point Lucas had woken up, and one of his first gestures, after barely a few stirs, had been to lay a few soft kisses on the bare skin of Eliott's neck, making him shiver and melt. He'd gone down the entirety of his spine, then, slowly, until he'd disappeared under the covers, and he'd happily let Lucas treat his body as his playground for a few blessed hours before breakfast. It had been perfect. 

And now….now he is this wretched _thing…_.he feels barely human anymore. He has robbed himself of that warmth and love. And Lucas thinks he did all that for power, for...some awful plan to get him under control or...the simple thought of it fills his eyes with tears.

  
  


He has to make this right. 

  
  


So he steps forward. 

  
  


The floor is...solid under his feet, for now. He extends his arms in front of him, and shuffles forward slowly. 

For a long time, it's all the same. He doesn't feel as if he is making any progress. He keeps expecting to bump into something or having the ground disappear under his feet. It makes no sense - the entrance was at the top of the hill, he should be going down now, otherwise he would have come out on the other side. But no. The ground stays steady under his feet. For all he knew he could have been just treading water in the same spot for hours. Everything feels wrong, out of place, his alarm systems in the back of his consciousness going haywire for an attack that doesn't come. 

  
  


Gradually he feels the darkness soak through his skin, taking away any reminder of softness, of warmth, of light from his being. He is lost in some sort of primordial abyss, and it is taking from him anything that belongs to the land of the living. And testing him, to see if he really belongs here. 

He's heard tales of the living going down into the Underworld and it rarely ends well. Of course, he is supposed to be the ruler of this place but - he is starting to understand it won't be as easy as he thought it would be. He is weak. The ritual has given him nominal power, status ; has opened a door within him, but his energy levels are still depleted from whatever Lucas did when he separated them. His brain is a mess and his heart is a physical ache in his chest. He knows he has changed and he doesn't have the first clue on how to harness it. 

He knows...what it's like to be stuck in a dark place, though, even if more mental than physical. He knows what it's like to have to drag yourself forward when all your strength is gone. He's done it before. 

  
  
  
  


So he does it again. 

  
  


And again.

  
  
  


And then, just like that, the floor is gone, and he falls.

  
  


He opens his mouth but the scream that his vocal chords want to make is muffled before it even gets out, as if the darkness itself was damping it down. His feet hit the ground, implausibly softly, as if it had reached out to catch him. He blinks. 

He can see now. A soft, diffuse almost-light, without a source - as if the darkness itself was giving off light. It’s enough to distinguish the outline of rock above his head, and some dark shape up ahead. And - yes, the sound of running water. But it’s strange… it almost sounds like human whispers…

He remembers reading about the five rivers of the Underground. _The Acheron, river of misery, made of blood and gore. The Phlegheton, river of fire, which leads to Tartarus. The Lethe, river of forgetfulness. The Cocytus, river of lamentations, on which banks dwell the improperly buried. And the river Styx, river of hatred, by which water the gods used to swear oaths._ Which one is these ? 

Lethe is the one he fears the most. The idea of forgetting why he came here in the first place terrifies him. But...hopefully, as a god, it wouldn’t apply to him. 

He clings to his meager rationalizations and moves forward. One thing he did read about, in those nocturnal hours during which he tormented himself by reading about the place he was destined to be imprisoned in, driven by anxiety and restlessness, was the myriad spirits and creatures that dwelled in the Underworld : the ferrier, Charon, the Hydra of Lerna, the Gorgons and the Chimeras, the guard dog Cerberus with its three heads...They all sound terrifying, but less scary somehow than having to remain here, alone. And they wouldn't hurt him, would they ? 

He still has this uncanny feeling of being watched. But ...no sound, no movement to confirm it.

He reaches the water and looks down. It's just water, for as much as he can see, dark and rushing and slightly foggy, but not extraordinary beyond that in any way. 

He walks along the bank for a while, uncertain of what to do. He wishes the horse creature was still there to lead him around, but it seems to have evaporated into thin air along with his ghostly entourage. He wonders if they entered the Underworld with him, and are now simply hidden, or did they stay on the threshold, too scared to move on ?

He never expected the Underworld to be so...empty. 

After passing the same rocky outcropping, it becomes clear to him he isn't moving forward, and so he turns to the water. It seems there is once again no choice but to cross.

He holds his breath as he steps forward, but to his surprise, the water recedes. And again as he inches further. Until he is standing in the river bed, and the water that should come up to his knees is raised around him in a neat circle, avoiding him, his legs still surrounded by air. 

Strange. 

He keeps walking. The river bed is much larger and deeper than it seemed at first, and soon he is surrounded by walls of dark, murky waters that tower several meters above him. He can barely see anything, and it’s terrifying. Except in the depth of the river, he can sense something watching, vague shapes of eyes and teeth, hungry and full of hate, wishing nothing more than to tear him apart but still biding the forbidding pull of the water. 

He releases a breath he didn’t know he was reaching only as the ground starts going up again and he finally reaches the other side. The water sloshes to a close behind him, and he hurries away, to an opening in the rock. After a small, suffocating tunnel, he finally reaches open space. 

It’s...plains, from what he can see. Grey, flat expanses of rock with no end in sight. 

A wave of discouragement hits him. How is he supposed to find his way if everything is so...but maybe that’s the point. Maybe he is being tested, again. And, well...He’s always found loneliness, darkness and monotony to be more terrifying than any monsters he could come up with. 

  
  


So he goes on. Wind hits his face, loaded with coarse dust that smells like ash. After a while, though, it starts avoiding him, just as the water did. Small mercies, he tells himself. Even more so as he realizes the dust around him is shimmering slightly. He looks on to the ground and he can see small shards of glass amidst the grey dust. 

If he weren’t...protected somehow, that shit would have gotten into his lungs, tearing him up from the inside. He can hear whistling noises, intermittently, and sees that bigger shards of glass are being hurled through the air by the wind around him. There are vague shapes in the dusty air around him, too, but they cannot materialize - everytime, they are shredded to pieces by the glass. He can hear a faint, remanent chorus of cries and pleading, gone before it can truly make a sound. 

  
  


Fuck, this place is terrifying. In a quieter, much more insidious way than he was expecting. It doesn’t feel like a place, rather than a collection of endless spaces where time and the laws of physics don’t make sense anymore. If this goes on for too long, he might very well end up losing his fucking mind. 

He walks, and completely loses any sense of time. His throat and eyes start to feel horribly dry from inhaling the dust, his legs and feet hurt from the effort, and his head starts to go dizzy. How far is there to go ? The Underworld could be infinite. He could be lost here for days, weeks, months, catastrophic events could unfurl upstairs, and he would be none the wiser, stuck in this endless nothingness. 

  
  
  


Despair hits him.

What is he even doing ?

Running off on some harebrained self-assigned quest, on the word of a woman who had every reason to lie to him, for a man who told Eliott he would kill him if he ever saw him again ? Is he really that fed up with living, deep down ? His sense of self-preservation used to be better than this, but an inkling of fucking feelings, someone to make him feel a little less alone, and there he goes. And now he could just be trapped here, forever. Maybe that’s all they need, his presence here, maybe they don’t care about anything else. Maybe he isn’t supposed to be a king or a guardian, just some dumb loser who willingly tossed himself down the garbage chute. Maybe it’s the...hopelessness that counts. Maybe that’s his role. Renouncing everything beautiful and good about life. Maybe Ananke’s elixir was just the useful bullshit story Lachesis told him so he would finally assume his place in the dark. Maybe he will never be able to give Lucas the freedom he deserves, and Lucas will live out the rest of his life thinking Eliott used him because he was power hungry and unscrupulous. Will spend the rest of his life blaming his own capacity to love, to be soft. 

  
  


And what is he even thinking - that he can beat the Fates ? Like this, alone, thrown into a new role he doesn’t understand in a weird dimension of the dead where nothing seems to make sense ? With no energy, no food or drink, no knowledge, no weapons, no allies ? With his heart still freshly broken, pain thumping into his chest like an awful physical mutilation ? 

  
  
  


For a moment, his flight instinct kicks in, and he turns around, to see if the tunnel is still visible.

  
  
  


That move immediately reveals itself to be a horrible mistake, as he feels a push against his back - a hissing noise, and white-hot agony follows. He lets out a sharp cry of pain as he feels, as if in slow motion, several blades of glass embed themselves into his back, making a sickening wet noise. He turns back as fast as he can - and the wind relents, thankfully. 

  
  
  


So - he can’t even turn back, or his protection disappears ? What sort of messed up ….fuck. It really, really hurts. He falls to his knees. He tries to bring his arms to his back, to check the extent of the damage, but anything that makes his muscles move is like feeding his flesh into a meat grinder. Tears start falling down his cheeks, and a sob escapes his mouth - but even crying is too painful. He feels so lost, so fucking hopeless and useless. It strikes him, then, that there is a very real risk he may die here. Godly incarnations are strong, much stronger than common mortals, but they are not invulnerable. And this place seems to have it in for him. He was expecting to face all sorts of horrors, beasts with tongues of fire, serpents, ravenous corpses, even the twisted shadow of his mother, but this - this…this is cruel. 

  
  
  


This is how he’s felt for such a long time of his life. Alone, in the dark, utterly lost. As if always one step from vanishing from the earth, from the living, from everything that ever changed and grew and blossomed and loved and mattered, everything - and to be back there, now, worse than ever…it’s so awful. Worse than any physical pain. The idea that this could be his end, pathetic and forgotten, on some stupid fool’s errand to reclaim the possibility of choice in a universe where everything seems planned in advance, no matter how hard they run…What use is it to even fight ? Maybe he should lie down, and wait for the dust to cover him. Maybe he should just…Stop. It would probably hurt less. And then…maybe Lucas would be released of his obligations, anyway, and a better Hades and Persephone would be chosen. 

  
  
  


He feels relief at the idea. He’s spent so much of his life always fighting - against nature, against his own mother, his peers who mocked him from being weird, the darkness in his own mind, the concept of fate itself. A silent fight, not epic but constant and bitter and wearying - and he is so tired. What use is it if he is always going to end back here ? After he sabotaged any flicker of love or trust he might have had in the world of the living ? If this is his truest resting place, then…maybe he is home. Maybe…

  
  
  


He blinks. 

  
  
  


There is a little shape coming towards him, through the indistinct barrage of dusty wind. It’s too small to be human. He stills. If it’s dangerous, then…there is no way he can defend himself in this state. 

  
  
  


He grasps one of the glass shards on the ground, nevertheless, the edges catching on to the tender skin of his fingers, making him bleed. 

  
  
  


It’s an animal, he realizes - a cat ? a fox ? 

  
  
  


What the fuck. No. It’s a - it’s a raccoon. Striped tail, black mask around the eyes, pointy snout. It walks up to the edge of Eliott’s little bubble, seemingly unaffected by the glass laden wind, and sits down, looking at him with inquisitive little eyes.

  
  
  


A bitter laugh escapes his throat. Is …is the Underworld making fun of him right now ?

  
  
  


“Fuck off,” he says to the raccoon, voice raspy. It hurts to even talk. 

  
  
  


The raccoon doesn’t look away, or give him any sign of understanding. It just stares. 

  
  
  


This is absurd. Fuck. 

  
  
  


As Eliott tries to comprehend what is happening, he notices there is something a bit…off about the raccoon. It doesn’t look exactly like one would in the wild. Its…ears are too soft and rounded, his tail too fluffy, and his face too expressive. And it…has a little blue bandanna around his neck. 

  
  
  


He laughs again. This is not any raccoon - not a real one, by any standards. No, this is the raccoon he imagined when he was a lonely kid not allowed any friends, so he made up an imaginary one. 

  
  
  


That’s it - he must be hallucinating. It’s all in his mind. He’s losing it already. 

  
  
  
  
  


The raccoon blinks at him, and then says, 

  
  
  
  
  


“It’s not because it’s in your mind that it’s not real.” 

  
  
  
  
  


Eliott almost keels over in shock, but even a little spasm is too painful and he controls himself. 

  
  
  
  
  


Again…what the everloving fuck. The surprise of it all has yanked his mind from despair into utter cluelessness. So…maybe that’s an improvement ? An imaginary raccoon giving him spiritual advice. That’s totally what he needs right now. Sure. That might as well happen, too.

  
  
  


“What should I do ?” he asks the creature. Even if it’s a projection…it’s better than nothing. 

  
  
  


“How the fuck should I know, I’m a bloody raccoon. Ugh. Fuck this place. I went fishing but the fish tried to fish me back so I was like hell no, I’m out of this dump. The vibes are seriously rotten. You wouldn’t happen to know the exit, would you ?” The raccoon talks with a slight Northern accent. The effect is extremely uncanny.

  
  
  


“Uh…” 

  
  
  


“Of course you wouldn’t, this place is an utter mess. God, kid, what are you even doing here ?”

  
  
  


Eliott laughs, and then starts crying again, chest making a strange wheezing noise. 

  
  
  


“I made this mess. It’s all my fault. I refused my role, I ran away, I…hurt the man I love, I…maybe I deserve to be here.” 

  
  
  


The raccoon looks at him as if he’s stupid. “You’re not still listening to that mother of yours, are you ? If wallowing in self loathing did anything useful, don’t you think you would know by now ?” 

  
  
  


Ouch. 

  
  
  


“That’s mean. Aren’t you supposed to be my friend ?” Eliott spits on the floor. Blood. 

  
  
  


“Friends tell it to each other like it is. No bullshit. And the truth right now, my friend, is that you’re not doing too hot, so you need to get a move on. Yeah, yeah, you messed up, but the truth is, life is a bitch, and then you die, and between it’s mostly very confusing. This morning you were on honeymoon and now you are in the land of the dead talking to a raccoon. It makes no sense. Unless you make it make sense.”

  
  
  


“But the Fates…”

  
  
  


“Yeah, yeah, that’s what the Fates understood. Did you ever wonder why they’re the only godly incarnations never to die ? You get a hell of a lot of time to rejig stuff in your favor when you live that long.”

  
  
  


That’s…yeah. Of course. He knows the Fates did some stuff, but…

  
  
  


“The Fates didn’t make me such a screw up.”

  
  
  


“Is that what you want to be ? A screw up ? Then what are you doing here ?”

  
  
  


He frowns. 

  
  
  


The raccoon advances, draws himself up on his hind legs, and smashes his uncanny little paws against Eliott’s cheeks. 

  
  
  


“Do you know a lot of screw ups that enter the jaws of the Underworld for the sake of somebody they love ?”

  
  
  


He frowns. “No.” 

  
  
  


“No. And you wouldn’t call Orpheus a screw up, would you ? He failed, but the important part is that he tried. He did something incredibly brave that started a story people would remember for centuries. If he’d just rescued his girl, everyone would be like, eh. But he failed for such a simple, human reason - and now everyone thinks that maybe they could have done better. Everyone thinks it’s worth trying, if they ever loved someone that much. They can’t let the story go. We’re all still there, caught in that moment before he turns, telling him not to.”

Eliott frowns. “Are you telling me it’s okay to fail right now because at least I tried ?” He gets an awful suspicion and panic wells up inside him. “Am I dying ? Are you a part of my brain that’s trying to get me to come to terms with that ?” 

The raccoon releases him. “I don’t know, am I ? Are you ? Is that the story you want ?” 

“No !” 

“Then what do you want ?” 

Eliott stares the creature down. He is really very rude as far as imaginary friends go. But that’s the sort of companion he dreamed off as a kid - snarky, irreverent. Challenging him to step beyond what was expected of him. 

He thinks back to eight-year old Eliott, living in the forest, head lost in the stars. He’d always felt there was something more out there - something incredible, something to devote himself to fully, something that would lift him out of loneliness. Out of his mother’s constant paranoia and weariness, her declaration that isolation was the only way to go. Out of the predictable drudge of his days. 

And, well...he’d come close, hadn’t he ? 

Yeah. 

And if there is even the slightest sliver of a chance he might make it back there…he can’t let go. He can’t be a disappointment to that kid. Yeah - he was lonely. But most importantly, he was a dreamer. That’s what used to define him. That’s what mattered.

It’s about Lucas, Lucas who had wanted to see him blossom beyond his fears, who had loved him so generously and fearlessly that for a brief moment he had forgotten about even the possibility of death and darkness. But it's not only about him. It’s about the possibility of showing people that there could be, should be a choice. That they’re not just the puppets of the Fates. That their friends upstairs aren’t wrong for fighting. That none of them are doomed to...anything. 

As long as there is a sliver of a chance, he’s not doomed. Neither of them are. As long as there’s hope…

  
  


He blinks again, and the raccoon is gone. But he feels a new rush of energy course through his limbs, and somehow, it makes the burn of his back recede at least somehow, and the wind take a wider swerve around him. 

He gets up, slowly, gritting his teeth through the pain, and he starts moving again. 

  
  


…

  
  


He walks for a long time. But eventually, he comes to...a road, which leads into a tunnel. Its surface is strangely dark and for a moment he thinks it’s made of asphalt - but it’s not smooth enough for that. As he steps onto it, he realizes it’s not really a road. It’s made of basaltic stone - lava that cooled down. 

The Phlegheton, river of fire. Except it has...died, for some reason. He frowns. The more he progresses, the more he discovers the Underworld might just as well have an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the front door. Is this all because he stayed away for eight years ? Where have all the souls of the dead gone ? Guilt gnaws at the edge of his determination. 

This one leads to Tartarus, it is said. Dangerous place, probably. But it is lower down, and Ananke’s lair is supposed to be at the lowest point... So he enters the tunnel, careful as the ground below his feet starts to slope sharply down. On the other side, thankfully, there is no eldritch desert, but a vast cavern, filled with columns of dark stone. The ground is covered in strange sinuous formations and folds of rock. It looks very much like the inside of a volcano, after it cooled down. He can’t say he’s very sad about it, though. It would have burnt him to a crisp were it still active.

  
  


He makes his way through, carefully. The wind is still whistling through - or are those voices ? He starts to notice many openings in the rock wall. Some of them are taller than him, several so small they look more like animal burrows. How is he supposed to know which one to choose ? 

There ! Somewhat miraculously, he sees - a root. It’s indubitably a root. Small, and strangely silvery, but a root all the same. Gods only know how it’s survived down there but something tells him it’s not attached to any typical sort of tree. 

Alright. The opening it comes out of is very small though, and he feels anxious just looking at it. He will have to crawl. 

Crawl he does. Advancing on all fours hurts something fierce, and it isn’t long before he finds himself in the total dark. He really hopes this isn’t a dead end, because turning around would be agonizing.

He’s barely done thinking this that his hand hits the rock. 

  
  


Fuck. _Fuck._

  
  
  


But this time, he doesn’t give in to despair. He’s Hades. This place is his domain. No matter how desolate it has become...and if the wind and the water gave way before him…

  
He puts his hand on the stone. A wave of emotions seeps through. The loneliness...fuck. All the collective loneliness. It’s not just him, it’s...this place, and all the errant souls…and for the first time he thinks, _fuck, something needs to be done about this._

The rock gives way under his hand. And so, he is able to keep shuffling forward, bit by bit, having to repeat the trick once in a while, and every time, something grows and grows in him, a sorrow not for himself but for what the Underworld has become. Which is...very new. 

Finally, the tunnel opens onto yet another space, and this time, finds... A spiral staircase, leading down. It looks absolutely ancient, carved into crumbling rock. It is flanked by two statues, ancient maidens with forbidding expressions - their eye sockets deliberately left empty. And the roots are everywhere now - silvery like spiderweb, glowing with their own diffuse light, following the curve of the stairs, down, down, down. 

  
  


Ananke’s lair. 

  
  


There is no telling what awaits him there. Maybe she will be absolutely furious that someone dares to beg her to undo her choice. Maybe she will rage and smite him on the spot. Maybe she will be more lenient - but ask him for some sacrifice in return, his eyes or his voice or his ability to feel. He doesn’t know. He feels weak and woozy and unable to do anything but force himself to stay upright and put one foot in front of the other.

But there’s hope. 

  
  


He takes a deep breath, and starts the downwards climb.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaaaaaaah sooo what do you think ? Was the Underworld like you expected it ? Is Eliott lowkey a Disney Princess with 'attracts cute animal sidekicks' power ? Is Ananke secretely a giant spider who will try to eat him ? And what do you think Lucas has been up to ? Telllllll meeeeee I want to know ! <3
> 
> Next time : burn baby burn


	16. Chapter 15 : Lucas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time to make some choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well then, are you ready for it ? 
> 
> ...
> 
> content warnings for : bad headspace and vaguely suicidal ideation, use of drugs/alcohol, mentions of death and disease, graphic description of wounds

_Chapter 15 - Lucas_

_  
  
_

The first few hours after he leaves the cottage are a blur. He knows he steals a car, but how exactly he got to the city in less than an hour, he wouldn't be able to explain later. 

All he remembers is the rush of anger and power. Exhilarating in the worst way possible. This is every rage-filled indulgence he's ever had multiplied tenfold - times a hundred, even. Pure chaos thrums under his ribcage and vibrates in his palms. Blood rushes to his head, making thinking clearly difficult. As he drives he feels nature explode into overgrowth around him, the ground shaking, the power seeking somewhere to go. And it doesn't abate as it pours out - it only grows stronger. The world becomes a pulsing echo of his inner turmoil. 

He is grateful for the anger. Because if it wasn't there, if he had to feel everything  _ else _ ...it would be excruciating.

_ Eliott is Hades. Eliott betrayed me. It was all fake. He called me easy. He laughed…He was lying to me all along. _

_  
  
_

No, fuck. No. 

He can't go there, he can't…too late. 

Pain blossoms like a strangling vine around his heart, fraught with the barbed wire of shame and the bitterness of regret.  He has a flash of memory, then. Lying in bed, Eliott above him, smiling so sweetly, framed by roses. Calling him a pretty flower. And Lucas had responded so eagerly. Seen in hindsight, it's so humiliating. Was Eliott secretly laughing at him inside his head, the whole time ? Congratulating himself for being such a smooth player and making Lucas fall hook line and sinker for his sensitive lover routine ? Mocking Lucas for being such a needy, eager little bitch under his tough facade ? 

Fuck. He had basked in it so fully. In all of Eliott's fervent gestures of devotion, his protectiveness, his care, his attentiveness. Eliott had known how to show love to Lucas exactly in the way he had always desperately needed. He should have known it was too good to be true. It hurts so fucking much, like iron spikes spearing through all his most vulnerable places.  There is still a part of him that doesn't want to believe it. That all the moments of intimacy they shared together were too strong and too real to be faked. But he knows it's wishful thinking.

Eliott made him fucking soft. Without him there, he never would have left town. He would have stayed and fought for what was his. For his company, his reputation, his life's work, his freedom.  Maybe he should thank Charles for opening up his eyes before they got entangled any further.  But he knows that sick son of a bitch only did it for his own selfish reasons - a power trip. He felt threatened by Hades, probably always has, as the only god whose powers could rival his. So he went after his bride-to-be, in some weird territorial aggression move.

Well, fuck that. He isn't going to be some pawn in a godly dick measuring contest. They can all go to hell. Or more specifically, they can deal with the hell he is going to create for them.

…

_  
  
_

He arrives at the city gates early. He doesn't hesitate about his first destination. He drives through the streets and the other cars rush to get away from him as the road cracks wherever he goes, wild life making its way through. 

The building of his company stands glittering in the afternoon like a pristine monolith of glass and metal. Oh, how proud he had been when it had first been built. He really thought, for a moment, that he'd arrived, in life. That he had conquered the heights of success. That he'd had it made. But wealth and renoun never made him any less of a fool.

He doesn't bother waiting for the glass doors to open - he walks towards them, and without any pause to consider his next move, directs a shower of blue flame in their direction. They melt right through, burning the expensive carpet as the now liquid glass drips down. This is not how fire is supposed to behave, but this is not normal fire - it is an extension of Lucas's will, undomitable and deadly precise.

He waits an instant before making his entrance. He sees flabbergasted faces and paralyzed motions. 

Good.

_  
  
_

He wants everybody to know he's back in town.

He beelines towards his office, his head held up high and jaw squared, ignoring any stares. Everything there is as he left it, blooming beautifully. Even his carnivorous plants that used to be the sole repositories of his affections.

Except Moira, standing there behind his desk and talking to two random men in suits.

_  
  
_

It's so strange being here again. He has a flashback to Eliott's first day. It's like looking through the memories of someone else - the petty stupid things he'd been so focused on, like property of dress and resumes and five minute tardiness. There is no part of him that wants to reclaim it, now that he is here. The thought of it seems so grey, so worthless and deadening.  All of a sudden, he feels utterly stuck. He realizes he can't just...there is no going back. He's changed too much. He doesn't fit in here anymore. Being with Eliott changed him, irreversibly. It makes him want to vomit.

_  
  
_

Moira turns towards him, face frozen in a fake smile.

_  
  
_

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in. The fugitive life not everything you'd hoped for ? Where's your boy toy?"

Her daring to mention Eliott, as if knowing exactly which wound to press on, fills Lucas with renewed and inchoate rage. 

_  
  
_

He flicks his hand. 

All the potted plants in the room lift themselves into the air at once, and then in the blink of an eye, smash themselves against the rock wall in a violent outburst of soil and pottery shards that scatter all over the room. Moira and her associates have the good grace to look at least mildly startled. 

"Get out of my office." He orders, in his most regal executive tone.

_  
  
_

"I don't think so," Moira bites back, obviously not understanding the danger she is in. Her fragile jaw is firmly set and her eyes are cold. "I knew you would go off the deep end sooner or later. I knew you'd come back." She pushes a button on the desk, there is a sharp noise, and then the lights of the office turn red.

A wave of magic washes over Lucas, seeking to paralyze him with its insidious tendrils.

An anti-magic force field. Clever. She must have had magicians come in to install it.

She speaks into her phone. "Get security to my office. Lallemant came back. And get me the Fates and the god-cops here." Then she turns back to Lucas with a glib expression. "You're not escaping this time. No, I don't care if Lachesis has to get her saintly ass down here in person to capture you. There is a cushy little cell with your name on it, and you are going to rot there until you learn how to behave. As for this company, by turning you in, we finally will wash our reputation from the stain caused by associating with you."

_  
  
_

Hate floods through Lucas's volatile bomb of a heart. Was he ever so repugnantly smug ? 

"How fucking dare you." He growls. "I made this company. I made  _ you _ ."

A vein pops in her neck. "I worked hard to get where I am. I deserve this."

He scoffs. "Yeah sure, so did I. So does everyone. You just got so high by clinging to my coattails. I chose you because you were just so greedy and cold as I was. And I made it this far because I had magic powers. That's all. You don't deserve anything. It's all fucking chance." He coughs, bloody petals falling from his mouth. "I fucking cursed myself doing it. I cared more about my company than my own mother. It's fucking cursed, and so are all of you, and every minute longer it exists is an abomination."

It's true. He wishes he could cling to the status, to the security that his company gave him. But it's all completely hollow, he can see that now. All his life, he's clinged to a false sense of security, and it didn't prevent Eliott from getting past his defenses and under his skin. So playing it safe really isn't an option anymore.

"I'm really glad they're locking you up. You're all the way up to raving lunatic now, aren't you." 

He laughs again. "Yeah, about that...I'm afraid I'm going to have to throw a little wrench in your plans." 

A few months ago, when he was disconnected from his powers, the force field definitely would have stopped him. But now, hopped up on energy and the fire of rage in his heart...it's barely an annoyance. 

_  
  
_

He raises his hand. 

Her face turns very pale. The two men next to her look at each other and then rush towards the exit at the same time. The ground starts to crack, and dark, thorny vines thick as legs crawl out, wrapping themselves around the massive basaltic desk.  Then they wrench it upwards in one smooth motion and throw it into the glasshouse on the other side of the office, rolling, crushing plants as it goes, until it crashes clean through the wall on the other side, finally stopping into the street.

Moira finally has the presence of mind to rush out of the office with a scared yelp.

_  
  
_

He raises his hands and again, blue flames spring forth, attacking the walls, the ground, the ceiling...and higher up, slowly.

_..._

He smashes the alarm button as he goes out. The slow progression of the fire will give everyone enough time to evacuate, and it will not directly harm any people, as it burns cold - but it will not stop until this entire place is utterly destroyed, and reduced to a pile of molten steel and smoldering rubble.  There is no way the company will ever recover from this. Even if they have assets spread throughout the country, nobody will ever want to do business with them ever again. The thought fills him with a dark satisfaction. For all those hypocrites who thrived off his presence and powers only to condemn him and backstab him at the first occasion to be ruined along with him...it feels fitting.

He walks out of the decomposing building, amidst the panic, without looking back. 

Nobody is stupid enough to stop him, but...He can hear sirens in the distance. God-cops, especially trained to handle these sorts of things, will be more of a hassle. He wonders were Zeus is, if he and Hades are still duking it out. He knows that if he cared about his own safety, he should probably leave town as soon as possible.

_  
  
_

But he has unfinished business, and the need to visit more destruction of people who have wronged him calls to him like a maddening fever.

_  
  
_

He gets into his car again and drives through the city. This time, he cannot race forward as fast, and notices that there is something off about the plant life that bursts into existence everywhere he goes. 

The flowers are grotesquely big, in garish colors that make no sense - blue, purple, orange, green, neon pink. The vines and branches are dark and thorny and distorted. He can't recognize any real plant species he knows - it's as if they sprung from a nightmare. He sees orchids with spots that look like skulls, insect-like vines with little legs, carnivorous flowers the size of people. His motor makes spluttering noises. He looks down and sees that the wheel is covered in writhing black vines with little blue leaves, and that they are escaping from slits in his dashboard, from the vents, from the gaping glovebox. 

Fuck. He tries to rein it in - but he can't. He feels painfully entangled with them, his powers a complete mess spilling everywhere in anger and now it's too late. His head hurts. 

But he arrives at his destination before the damage can stop his car completely, and his preoccupations turn back to the buildings in front of him.

_  
  
_

Munier, Inc.

_  
  
  
_

Again, that obnoxious, tasteless neoclassical decor everywhere. Charles is not the first of their line to have been chosen by the gods - and they want everybody to know it. It's fucking tacky as hell, especially when modernized, white columns and angular roofs mixed in with glass and metal. At least he had the decency to make his tower nice to look at. It's ridiculous, a crime against architectural decency, a bloody eyesore eating at the sky. 

_  
  
_

Well, not for long.

_  
  
_

…

_  
  
  
_

He tears it all down, with thorns and fire. The headquarters, the factories behind them. He leaves enough time for people to leave - he isn't a murderer, and the fire is slow and purposeful, attacking only inert material. But seeing people crying as they leave the building isn't enough to make him stop. He is aware he might be destroying their livelihoods but that registers only very faintly and distantly. All he can pay attention now is the power thumping in his brain, his ribcage, his veins. So hungry it hurts ; hungry for revenge, for destruction, for chaos. He lets himself indulge in it fully, imagining all the times Charles tried to humiliate him, put him back in his place, hurt him in front of others. Up until now, he's managed to keep Lucas cowed, but he took it a step too far, and now Lucas has very little left to loose.

For a few moments, seeing vines smashing through glass and blue fire licking at the walls brings him the closest to peace he has been since this morning - but it is a flickering feeling soon replaced by the need for more. More ruin, more destruction. For a brief instant he envisions extending the ravage to the buildings next door, and then on and on until the entire city is a field of ruins, and the idea fills him with glee.

_  
  
_

That's when he pauses. Fuck. No, that's not…what he wants, is it ?

_  
  
_

He looks at his shaking hands, and notices with horror that his veins have turned purple. What is happening to him ?  He takes a deep breath, wipes the sweat from his brow, and tries to slip into the trance that allows him to have a special awareness of his surroundings. 

_  
  
_

But immediately, he realizes something is wrong. In the first few heartbeats already - what he perceives isn't the details of full life in bloom around him he has gotten used to and loves, instead it's - 

A dead rat in the sewers below. Seeds trapped under the concrete and slowly rotting away. The faulty motor of his car, speared through by his nightmare plants.The disease in the tree behind him, its roots being eaten by chemicals. The corrupted lungs of the man that rushes past him - six months left to live, at the very best. The old woman in the apartment block left, living out her last days in her sickbed. Shards of glass on the pavement. Decay, destruction, entropy. It's the only thing he can see or feel, a slick web of horror that sucks his mind in like a maze, and he is caught with no hope of escape. He lets out a cry of despair. This isn't...this isn't him, this is not supposed to happen, he doesn't want to feel this, or know this...it's so much, too much...

_  
  
_

"Lucas Lallemant! Surrender yourself !" The voice cuts through the daze, and then there is a whooshing sound and a pricking feeling at his neck. 

He blinks, coming back to common reality. He brings his hand to his neck and feels a little dart there. Tranquilizer, no doubt. He can feel the sedative, laced with magic, enter his blood - but it does nothing. Some counterspell unleashed in his blood dissolves any power it might have against him in less than a second. He is on fire, unstoppable, cauterized by pain, even with his powers turned upside down. 

He turns around, and finds himself faced with a wall of god-cops, their shields raised towards him, wearing riot armor.  He swallows, his throat painful. 

_  
  
_

"Don't move ! Put your hands up !" 

_  
  
_

In the background, one of their magicians is weaving an intricate spell. But he can see right through the design and its fĺaws - better than he ever could before. He snaps his fingers. The magician's energy dissolves in an instant and he sways and then falls to the floor.

He looks at the god-cops and his vision is overplayed with that same capacity to see their weaknesses and frailties. He sees one had a bad knee, once has an ulcer in the making, one has cancer in remittance, one has a migraine. He realizes then how easy for him it would be to feed those pains and aches until they become unbearable and debilitating. He could ruin them without even lifting a finger.

Fuck. That's terrifying. 

Instead he calls the blue flames and launches them at their shields, which are immediately dropped in fright and pain. He uses the diversion to race into the burning building behind him, where nobody will follow him. 

_  
  
_

As he walks through a world distorted by surreal blue light, cold fire, melted liquid glass, and slowly crumbling concrete, he wonders what the hell is going on with him and his powers.  He has been angry before. Got some nasty plants out of the ground. But this is different. Now his connection to life has been...flipped. His connection is to destruction instead of growth. It's fucking terrifying. 

He thinks back to this morning, in the cabin. His horror at feeling how entangled his and Eliott...and Hades's energies were, how they had meshed together without them noticing. What if in trying to rip himself free ... he took something of Hades' with him ? A nd now the Underworld's darkness is affecting him, twisting his powers. Fuck, he feels sick. Maybe Eliott...no, Hades did this on purpose. Maybe it's all part of his fucked up plan to make Lucas his creature. Stain him with these horrors.

_  
  
_

Gods. 

_  
  
_

But maybe it's just him, him and all that anger and poison he's been keeping inside for so long. Maybe he was always going to end up like this. A monster. Maybe…

He comes out on the other side, but already he can hear the noise of stomping boots and shouts coming closer. He needs to hide. He is running at incredible levels of power right now but this isn't going to last forever ; he can feel the toll it is taking on his body. He's turned half of the city into a jungle and destroyed two massive groups of buildings - he is hemorrhaging energy all over the place and he knows that at some point it will have to go down again. 

He doesn't want to leave the city again - the thought of finding himself in the countryside again but this time completely alone and isolated is unbearable. So is the idea of calling the other gods for help, having to face their pity and disapproval at him being so out of control. He got himself into this mess by being too trusting and open. 

_  
  
_

He's better off alone. He is, he repeats it to himself. He finds himself another car to highjack and then, as if on autopilot, he finds himself on the way to his old apartment.

He knows it's probably not the best hiding place but he is too far gone to think about anything else. On his way, he can feel the city pulsing around him, a hideous thing full of sickness, destruction, decay, and he can't flee fast enough.

…

_  
  
  
_

He takes the elevator and as he rises, vines spring from the ground around the building, wrapping themselves thickly across the doors and the windows and the walls, and the miasmas of the city become a little more distant so high up.

He arrives at the penthouse with trepidation in his heart. The place, however, is exactly how he left it. The dark stains on the carpet and the lower end of the furniture has dried out completely but still carries with it a distinct smell.  The bedroom, too, is in the same state ; sheets in disarray and everywhere the sigils Eliott drew to protect them from those vicious ghosts, then violently clawed through during the night.  Lucas traces one with his finger. Somehow, reconciling early Eliott with Hades is even more difficult than with the Eliott he shared that cottage with. Eliott as his bodyguard - shy but persistent, and so protective. So mindful of his boundaries. Lucas had felt so safe in his arms when everything else in his life was going to hell in a handbasket. 

Suddenly he gets the most horrible suspicion. Did Hades send him those ghosts himself so that Lucas would be vulnerable and he could sweep in as the savior ? That would be so fucked up. And yet...it is a pretty reasonable theory, seen as how Hades is the master of the dead.

He lets himself drop onto the bed, and sends his power down, generating a circle of blue flame around his apartment building, imprinting on it a formal interdiction for anyone to cross. After that, he pours his energy into the vines, having them grow and grow and grow until the entire building is covered in layers of thick, thorny branches. Nobody is getting in anytime soon. 

_  
  
_

He builds his defenses until every single drop of magic has left his body and he is left utterly drained, sinking at last into merciful sleep. 

_  
  
_

…

_  
  
_

He wakes up disoriented, in the dark. His head pounds, and he can already tell this is going to be a hangover from hell. For a moment, his body instinctively searches for an other in the bed, and coming back to reality has never felt so cruel.  He lays there for a while, but then his stomach starts rumbling, contracting in hunger. He remembers he is human, he has needs - how the fuck is he going to...and he knows his closets are empty.

Then he remembers, in an errant moment of misplaced nostalgia, Eliott's fondness for frozen dinners. 

He drags himself down to the smaller apartment below his own. It is, again, exactly how they left it on that day after the ghost attack. There are still take-away wrappers from the food Imane brought them. The empty windows are like yawning patches of darkness, the city obscured by his protective vines.

He ignores it and opens the freezer. He was right. There is almost a month's worth of food in there. Lasagna, pizza, gratin, curry, stir fry, dumplings, cheese pockets, burritos, hamburgers...it's a wonder Eliott looked as good as he did if this was his main diet. For an instant he is flung back in time, to affectionately chiding Eliott over his food intake and trying to make him eat better as an excuse to be attentionate towards him. His stomach cramps up.

Fuck. No. He can't go there.

_  
  
_

He takes one of the lasagna dishes and throws it in the microwave, then when it's done, flings it on the kitchen island and grabs a fork to eat it directly from the tin foil. The taste is appalling and the core still frozen, but he chews through it. It doesn't matter, it's just fuel for his body.

Somehow, though, as much as he tries to keep his head empty, suddenly, completely out of nowhere and unprompted, there are tears in his eyes.

He wants to slap himself. He isn't going to cry over a plate of frozen lasagna, is he ? He has more dignity than that. It's going to be okay. He'll figure it out. He will. It's just like after his break-up with Georges. He was thrown off for a bit, then he got back on his horse. Sure, his situation is a bit more dire right now but he's a God. He'll figure it out. He will. He'll dig a tunnel with his vines if he has to. He'll get to the Magic Underground. Or something. He'll...yeah. He'll figure it out. Sure. He will.

When he is done with his meal he just drops everything unceremoniously in the sink and returns to his ruined bed upstairs, and exhausts himself with his efforts not to burst into tears.

_  
  
_

…

_  
  
_

In the morning, he becomes dimly aware that a police barricade has formed itself around the base of his building, but they obviously haven't found a way to get in.  He hears the noise of a chopper up above his head, though. He dispatches one of the vines, then, to lash out at the thing, enough to damage it in a way that it has to land immediately. He charms the rest of the vines that cover the top of the building to do the same were they to send something via the air again.

It's strange to think he used to struggle with magic. Now it's as simple as breathing to him. Even if now, it comes with the snarling pain of embracing a thorny bush with full arms.

_  
  
_

…

_  
  
_

The day passes by in a haze. His power levels have surged again but he mainly uses them to bolster his defenses - they've started going at his vines with grenades thrown over the flame barrier.  This morning an idiot tried to walk through the fire and got himself third degree burns over half of his body. There are magicians too, going at his wards with their full might. But the process is affecting their bodies, making them age prematurely.  He doesn't want to hurt people, but he isn't going to let them walk in if they can't respect the boundaries he set. Fire and thorns are a simple enough warning : stay the fuck out, or pain awaits.

The wrath of Persephone needs to _mean_ something. That's what this is, in the end. A message to all who dismissed him as some weak little flower goddess. Who made him believe that's what he was, all he could ever be. But now he senses reserves of power inside him that are near unlimited, and he doesn't think this comes only from mingling with Hades's energy.  So he works and works, letting the energy pour out of him until his veins are singing with power and his nerves are on fire, until he sees double out of exhaustion, until the tower is covered in a waterfall of blue flame on all sides, not harming the building itself but ready to attack any outsider who would dare to try and force their way in. And visible, without a doubt, to the entire city. One hell of a message. 

Especially to Hades, whenever he enters the city again. 

_  
  
_

_ How do you like your bride now, you piece of shit ? You liar, you...faithless... _

_  
  
_

The crash is even worse this time. He can feel _everything_. Everyone who's in pain, hurt, sick, injured, angry - he can feel the hospital three blocks away like a horrible nexus of suffering, and the neighbor raging at his wife in the building next to him, and the bird being eaten by a rat, and how terrified everyone is by this new chaos he has been raising, and he wants to scream. 

Thankfully, he finds a leftover of party drugs in his bed table, numbing him somehow, and wastes the rest of the day to delirious hours. Visions of giant moving flowers and burning cities and dancing skeletons - and for some reason, shards of glass falling from the sky like a deadly rain. It's the strangest bad trip he has ever been on. But it still beats being lucid.

_  
  
  
_

…

_  
  
_

When he finally comes to in the early hours of the morning, he feels like an animated piece of garbage. He's stinky and thirsty and vaguely thinks about getting a shower but the bathroom reminds him of Eliott too much, so he abandons the idea. He microwaves himself a chicken dish downstairs, and then starts piling up food to bring to his own freezer because he doesn't want to have to come to Eliott's appartment all the time. 

They cut off his electricity somewhere around midday, and that would have been an issue if he didn't have a backup generator on his roof. But then he gets paranoid about them cutting off the water.  He needs to make reserves, and the only way he sees to do that is by starting to empty all his priceless alcohol bottles in the sink - drinking a non-negligeable amount of it on the way - so he can fill them with water again. He's literally flashing tens of thousands down the drain and the thought makes him laugh more than anything else.

_  
  
_

Once he's done, he passes out drunk.

…

_  
  
  
_

He wakes up in the middle of the night, more miserable than he has ever felt in his entire life. It's like he cannot breathe ; the air has been stolen from his lungs and replaced with gravel. His skin is sticky with sweat and he feels nauseous, his muscles are cramped, his head is pounding. 

Most of all, he misses Eliott so intensely he wants to die from the pain. And now, in those cruel late hours, he cannot lie to himself. This goes beyond anger, beyond pride or humiliation, beyond betrayal or stupid godly politics. The magnitude of what he has lost hits him, and it is staggering.

He thought he had found his soulmate. He thought Eliott and him were at the start of something incredible, of something he had spent his life searching. He wanted to grow old with him. He'd been ready to throw everything holding him back by the wayside, his natural defiance and self-styled toughness and stubborn lonely habits. He'd been ready to risk so much and for a brief moment it had worked, and gods. Eliott's love had been like ambrosia on his tongue, so pure and sweet and nourishing, and he knows that without it he will starve for the rest of his life. Even if it was false, even then. His body will always seek that comfort he found, that intimacy and warmth, that natural grace and ease that they had together. And that energy flow between them - it was extraordinary. He'd felt so right and so powerful with Eliott at his side, but the right kind of power, not a mad rush but a tender blossoming of potential. Like they could figure out the incomprehensible forces that beset them as long as they were together.

He curses himself then, and wishes Hades never had lied to him, had come to him with his true face and tried to make him submit through brute force. That he hadn't made Lucas feel so good before making him feel so bad. Without the need for those games that have conquered his heart only to let it drop from the highest point of love down into a thousand shards of glass.  Because...he is broken now. This is so much worse than the silly bullshit with Georges, than...anything else, really, since the death of his mother. It's the only comparable pain he can think of and that makes it even worse.

_  
  
_

He feels so hollow and yet he can still feel everything that has been taken from him like a phantom limb. It's horrifying. It's the breakup from hell...literally. He feels so weak. And parts of him thinks that if Hades were to come back to the city now, find him like this, Lucas would still crawl back to him despite everything, and that thought is truly vile.

_  
  
_

He shambles out of bed, to get himself a glass of water. He serves himself from an old bottle of whiskey he emptied and re-filled earlier. It still has an aftertaste of liquor. Fuck. He feels so gross. He really needs a shower. But if the one upstairs is out of bounds…there is still the one downstairs…and to his addled brain, that's somehow a viable option.

_..._

He's barely stepped into the shower of the apartment downstairs when he realizes this was a mistake. Eliott has left shower bottles and gel there in a neat little row. He picks up the first one. It's called Spring Blossom.  He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, so instead he throws it out of the cubicle with a snarl of rage. It hits the mirror, spraying pink glittery gel in a dripping arc.

He turns on the water. Cold, but it doesn't help. He scrubs off vigorously, trying to remove more than the sweat of the last few days ; trying to remove the memory of Eliott's hands and lips and tongue on his skin, the memory of shivers of pleasure and the softness of warm sheets and being held in the night. Gods, he would peel his skin off if it helped. 

He fails utterly.

_  
  
_

He stops the water, dries himself, and then stumbles to the next room, where Eliott used to sleep.

The covers are still unmade, left in a hurry, and a little dusty, but Lucas ignores that and crawls under the sheets, his own brain screaming to him about how pathetic he is. He tries to shut it out, pulling the cover over his head, closing his eyes. He breathes in the pillow. Somehow, it still smells like him, earthy and a little woodsy, like the land after rain, and the scent triggers some unholy feeling of comfort in him. He hates himself for that -and yet he clings to it. The silk sheets are a river he wants to drown in, and more so in the ghost of Eliott's skin against them. His Eliott, the one before the reveal, sweet and caring and true, even if an illusion that only ever existed in his mind - he allows himself to split them in his mind for one blessed second, and mourn the one he lost. He imagines how that Eliott would hold him if he were there, kiss his brow, whisper soothing words in his ear, cajole his wicked brain to sleep. Be like an anchor in the worst turmoil of his life.

Finally, under the cover of darkness, he allows himself to cry, big sobs wracking his body like a merciless storm. He lets the tidal wave of sadness crash over him, and he lets himself sink, until there is no part of him that isn't crying out for the illusory lost half of his soul. 

…

_  
  
_

In the morning, he burns the bed down until nothing remains of it but a pile of cinders, and he returns to his own ruined one upstairs. 

_  
  
_

…

_  
  
_

The days start to blur together. He is waiting for a spark of willpower, for the return of his own self, for a plan. But there is nothing. He feels utterly empty, any hint of initiative or determination spluttering out before it's even on. His own capacity for anger has betrayed him - it is no longer fuel but yet another weight that paralyzes him.  He watches stupid daytime shows. He drinks. He eats and sleeps. That's pretty much it. His food and water supply are dwindling. He was right to be paranoid, he thinks after he opens a faucet and nothing comes out. And so is his power. It's taking more and more of a strain to maintain the fire around his building, and outside the assaults of the Fates' magicians are becoming more and more insistent.

He needs a plan. He can't just wait for them to break through his defenses and take him away.

_  
  
_

And yet...nothing. Nothing at all.

_  
  
_

…

_  
  
_

He has brief flashes of anger that make him want to destroy things and rage around - at one point he takes his collection of priceless porcelain plates from his cupboard and throws them against the wall one by one, the sound of their shattering too faint to be truly satisfying. Seething as he does so with the memories of all the little times he could have clued in to Eliott's true nature. The way their powers fit together, how it reminded Lucas of a deep mountainous strength, how well Eliott could handle the ghosts. How strong his magic was, stronger than anything a random exorcist should have been capable of doing. The way he just took over that enchanted corpse in the Underground...and of course. The reason why Lucas burst into flowers after their first night. 

Fuck, it was all there. How could he have been so stupid, so in denial…

But the truth is he liked not knowing, having the perks of Hades at his side without the inconvenience tied to their godly roles. That's what pisses him off the most. That he was doomed to feel those things by forces beyond his control. That his godly nature probably pushed him to get close to Eliott without him knowing and everything that he thought was a choice probably wasn't. 

That's the worst thing in the world.

_  
  
_

…

_  
  
_

The next morning, he is woken up by strange sounds of singing. He opens his window and for one moment, he thinks he is hearing his mother's voice. Telling him to come down, to let down his guard, that she is waiting for him.  It's so unexpected and so comforting he almost finds himself stepping out onto the ledge of the window, into a sky wreathed in blue flame, before one of his vines lashes him in the face, bringing him back to sanity. He blinks.

There is a...flying device hanging in the air across from his window, some sort of hang glider with a motor, and in the backseat a woman looks at him, her mouth opened wide. Wings sprout from her shoulders. The air in front of her face is vibrating, distorted.

A siren. Capable of making people believe all sorts of crazy things with their enchanted voices.

Fuck. Will they truly never leave him alone ? He just wants to be left alone.

He smashes the window close and then retreats to his bed, burying his head under the pillow until the noise ceases.

_  
  
_

…

After a while, yet a new flavor of miserable presents itself to him. He regrets not asking Eliott for an explanation. It would probably have been horrible, but at least it would have been a cleaner cut. He starts to regret having been so impulsive and flashy in his manner of taking a stand, too. If, after fleeing the cottage, he had calmed down a bit, and went to see Imane and the other gods instead, maybe they could have helped him take his revenge in a more strategic way instead of turning the city upside down and making himself into such a target.  But it's too late now. He's made himself into a public menace. His friends probably want nothing to do with him, and they very much shouldn't. He's fucking poison anyway.

The more time passes and the more he realizes he only has two options left. 

Either he flees from the city, by making some sort of tunnel under the building, and hoping they don't clue in soon enough to chase him. Then he will have to start from scratch, again, and this time live a small and isolated life, to make sure nobody finds him. The thought is deeply depressing to him.

Or he stays until his barricades eventually fail and takes a last stand. And he ends up dead, or in a cell, possibly with massive collateral damage.  His new powers probably make him one hell of a fighter. But...he has no desire to hurt or even kill people, even at his worst. The idea of having to pay that sort of price for his freedom makes him sick.

It's Zeus he wants to fight. Last time he did manage to hurt him, so maybe…Oh in the end, the Fates would probably take him down but...what does it all matter, anyway ? 

…

Anger, regret, sadness, numbness, boredom, restlessness, panic, self-loathing. It goes on and on in circles. He starts dreaming about blue flames engulfing him, now, too. With nowhere left to go, the destructiveness is turned inwards.

He goes down to the basement of the building and starts digging instead, with a shovel, after the vines helped him by cracking the concrete open. It feels good to have something physical to do, a goal to work towards - but there is something about being under the earth that very quickly starts to feel claustrophobic in the worst way. The smell of soil reminds him too much of Eliott. Still. He has a drive to exhaust himself. Fighting against the earth that would bury him alive. Feeling his muscles burn, the high of serotonin after effort. Digging a tunnel to the other side of the Earth feels less unobtainable an objective than figuring out how to get himself out of this mess. 

After a while, though, he hits rock, and his shovel breaks, and no matter how hard he tries, the vines won't break through. And then for a moment, he truly loses it, screaming in anger and whacking whatever is left of the shovel against the rock until all that remains in his hands is a fistful of kindling, and his skin is full of splinters. 

He retreats back to his penthouse, to take the splinters out with a pair of tweezers, disinfecting it with a reminder of vodka and hissing at the burn of alcohol. 

He is almost done bandaging his hands when he hears a knock on his door. 

_  
  
_

His entire body goes rigid. How the fuck…

The knock resonates again. Silently, he gets up and towards the kitchen, when he grabs a kitchen knife, and the ever present thorny vines curl up at his side, ready to strike like poisonous snakes. 

"Lucas, open the fucking door."

_  
  
_

Imane. That's Imane's voice. How the fuck…

_  
  
_

His first suspicion is that it must be yet another siren. He gets closer and throws a glance in the door viewer. Outside, it's very much Imane, and strangely, that purple haired witch from the Magic Underground. 

Lucas frowns. How the fuck do those two know each other ? And most importantly, what do they want from him ? Ugh. His first instinct is to hide, but that's his friend out there, and she must be so worried.  After a while, his boredom and reckless curiosity win over his paranoia, and he uses magic to open the door slowly, keeping his knife raised. 

_  
  
_

"Thank God, there you are," Imane exclaims, her face ashen with worry and lack of sleep. "What happened to you ?" 

He blinks, and she rushes to him, hugging him fiercely, and he lets the knife clatter to the ground. In spite of everything…it's so good to see her.

"Eliott betrayed me," he whispers, his voice hoarse after days of not speaking. "He was Hades this whole time. Charles came to see us and revealed the truth, said that it was all a rude to get me under Hades's influence, and Eliott, he...he told me I was easy and that I…" He feels a sharp pang of renewed shame and hurt, and turns his head away as his eyes fill with tears. "I fell for it," he concludes with a wobbly voice. 

_  
  
_

"I don't think it's that simple." The witch, Alexia, says. 

"What the fuck do you know," Lucas snarls at her. "And how the fuck did you get in here anyway ? How did a simple witch break through the barriers made by a god ?"

"Because I am no simple witch," she replies, "I am the mother of them all." And she drops her shields.

Lucas feels her energy swell into his field of perception, dark and powerful, and he gets an impression of flaming torches and crossroads at night and howling dogs.

_  
  
_

"Hecate."

_  
  
_

She nods.

_  
  
_

"Well that's just peachy, then. Another god reveal. Love that." He snarks.

"Lucas, I talked to Eliott -" 

"Of course you two would be friends. One hiding coward to another." 

She ignores him and keeps talking. "He gave me something for you. A letter and a present. To explain himself. I think you should read it before forming too much of a settled opinion. Things are a lot more complicated than you think."

_  
  
_

What the...the fucking nerve…

Is it hope that rushed into his chest first ? Fucking hell. No.

"What, so he can serve up some more convincing lies ? No fucking way. I told him I wanted nothing to do with him. He should take a fucking hint. He's never going to win me back."

"This is not what that is all about. Trust me. You will want to read this." Her face is pale and her tone solemn, all traces of the jokiness she had when their first met her gone.

"Well I don't. Trust you. You're a liar. Just like him."

"You owe it to me. I told you, in my shop, you would have to repay me. By listening when you didn't want to."

"I don't give a shit."

"Lucas." Imane falls in, her voice sharp. 

"How the fuck are you on her side ? You're my friend !"

"Alexia and I have been working closely together to build our movement, the last few weeks, and I trust her. We were really getting somewhere, Lucas. We got almost ten thousand people together for our last protest, and public opinion was swaying our way. We got the unions on our side, and we were about to start a massive strike. But then you came back and turned the city upside down, and now people are fucking terrified. I got an old lady after me saying one of your plants ate her dog. Her dog, Lucas ! You screwed us over. So now if Alexia tells you to read this, I think there is more at stake than your romantic drama. And in any case, you need to sort your shit out. So. Read it."

Lucas wants to slap himself. 

"Fuck, Imane, I'm so sorry, I didn't think..."

"What a surprise."

"Ha, ha." 

He takes the letter, rolled up, from Alexia, as well as a heavy pouch. He breaks the little cord that keeps it closed with his teeth. The letter smells like dust and stuffy air. Is that the stink of the Underworld ? He steels himself. No matter the part of him that is still longing for Eliott's presence, he is not going to fall for his bullshit again. If his friends think that there could be useful information in there, then fine. He'll read it. But he'll keep it cold and analytical.

_..._

_ Dear Lucas _ , it starts, but the  _ dear _ is crossed out, as if Eliott has realized that it was too much familiarity for the situation. The writing is messy, and trembling, as if written in a hurry, and the ink is pitch black.

Lucas's resolve already wavers from the very first line. 

_ I am so sorry. Words cannot express how sorry I am, and I will spend the rest of my life regretting what I have done. I should have told you who I was.  _

_ I am not writing this letter to beg for your forgiveness. I understand if you decide never to forgive me, or if you never want to see me again. That is fully your choice. But I still think you deserve to know the truth, not what twisted version of it Zeus came up with.  _

_ So, here it is.  _

_ I didn't know who you were on the first night that we spent together. I never thought Persephone could be someone like you. I only realized it on the following morning, when I saw the flowers. That's why I ran. I never intended to see you again. But then...fate screwed us over, I guess, and you turned out to be the new boss I had signed up to protect. I know I should have quit. But the ghost problem you were dealing with, I couldn't help but feel that was my fault. So I decided to stay, and keep you safe until the guest issue was solved, and then I would leave.  _

_ But the idea of leaving you became more and more difficult, until it became impossible. The thing is… _

_ I fell in love with you, Lucas. That is not a lie. It never was. And it's still true. Gods, I wish I could say this in a way that you would still believe me. I even sound like a liar to my own ears and yet I know this is true even if nothing else is. I love you. I love you. I love you and it kills me that I never knew how to handle it. _

_ And I know it's not just Hades and Persephone. Because at the start, I fucking hated you. Sure, I found you attractive, I was drawn to you but that was not enough to offset the fact that you were the most arrogant, entitled, selfish bastard I had ever met. I certainly didn't love you then, and following you around and being subjected to your whims was torture. The idea of having you as my consort was awful. So...when I say I fell in love with you, I know that it was more than just the threads of fate binding us together.  _

_ I saw you start to change. I started to see how caring you could be under that cold mask you were wearing. I started to appreciate your determination and your charisma in a new way. I started to understand the sort of pressure you were under, and how fiercely you met it head on. I started appreciating our time together, and your little attentions, and how clever and funny and generous you were. I started to understand the pain in your past, and how much I wanted to protect you from that, too. In my eyes, you went from attractive, to truly beautiful. Being with you started to feel like home, in a way I never knew before. I fell in love with you because of who you are as a person.  _

_ And so, that night, right before we kissed, I decided I was going to tell you the truth about who I was. Because I didn't want there to be any more secrets between us.It was scary, though. It was the scariest decision I ever made.  _

_ You see, the reason why I ran away from my duties had nothing to do with you...It was...My mom. She raised me. When I was a kid, it was just me and her. She was an itinerant sorceress and we lived on the roads. People were not very kind to us, but we had each other. She was my whole world, when I was young. But when my godly nature was revealed, she told me, this isn't right. You won't be able to deal with it. And I believed her. The thought of being stuck in the dark surrounded by death for the rest of my life horrified me. I have always lived for the beauty of the things that grow and blossom and change. _

_ The reason why she was saying that, and another secret I should have told you about, I guess - I'm bipolar. That means my brain is messed up. Sometimes, I get really really happy for no reason, and I become dangerously reckless and disconnected from reality. And then after that I crash. I go to very dark places, I become so sad that I can't fucking function anymore. It's...I've learned to manage it over the years with the help of magical healers. But back then my mother knew I wouldn't survive being the Lord of the Underworld, or that I would mess it up really badly. So she did a spell to hide me away from the Fates. _

_ It ended up costing her her life. So you see...revealing my secret, it would possibly mean making her sacrifice useless. I couldn't just tell you, or anyone. It was only when I realized I loved you that I could make that choice and be willing to take the risk that you wouldn't keep my secret. _

_ I wanted to trust you with it. I wanted to so badly. I asked you if we could talk. And you told me, tomorrow. And I was weak, and afraid, and I wanted to spare you, so I agreed. And as time went on speaking became more and more difficult. I felt so happy and warm and safe in our little cottage and the idea of doing anything to jeopardize that made me terrified. I have never had...a home, or someone that loved me as wholly and unconditionally as you did. I had never known sweetness before you. You made me fall in love with life in an entirely new way. The idea of losing that was worse than anything I could imagine. _

_ I believe that, if we had had a few more days, I would have told you. I want to believe it. That I could have gotten brave enough to treat you like you deserved. _

_ But I didn't. Instead you had to learn it in the worst possible way. I hurt you, and I hate that. It's the worst thing I ever did.  _

_ I am not asking for forgiveness. But I wanted to tell you. Munier is a liar. He is threatened by this new uprising and wanted to cause us damage. You aren't weak, or a fool. You were so brave, to open up to me like you did. I was the one who failed to honor you as you deserved. The character fault is entirely mine. _

_ I never cared about the power. I still don't. I never wanted to be a god. I had no plan, no strategy, nothing. I spent eight years wandering around suppressing my godly side. I came to the city because I knew the loneliness would kill me otherwise. I found something I had never even expected. I was never really into the idea of Persephone, but you made the role your own with so much spirit, it was incredible. For a moment, you make me believe it was possible to be a god without being a slave to fate. _

_ I knew I missed my chance with you. But please, don't let this sour your vision of love. Don't close your heart on my behalf. You have so much to offer. You deserve to blossom and thrive, and to be loved by someone braver than I am. Someone who won't hide and won't love you with fear in their heart. Y _ _ ou deserve to be free, and to choose your own fate. I should have told you who I was, so you could choose if I was a Hades you could let into your life or not. But even if I didn't give you the choice then, I can give it to you now.  _

_ Enclosed with this letter is a vial of a special elixir that I got from Ananke, Goddess of Necessity. I called the Fates and told them I would come in, in exchange for this. My hiding has done enough damage. It's time I faced my responsibilities.  _

_ If you drink the potion, you will become human again. The mantle of Persephone will pass on to the next of the chosen. You will be able to leave behind all the scrutiny and the judgment and make a life of your own. I know you don't need powers to be extraordinary. If you do, however, know that because we are bound, the same thing will happen to me. I, too, will be a simple mortal again. And the threads of fate that bind us will release us, and you will be free of me as well.  _ _ The choice is in your hands. If you decide not to drink it, then you will be able to carry your power knowing that you do so of your own free will and not as a cage imposed on you. Whatever you decide, I will accept it.  _

_ I won't contact you again after this. You don't owe me anything. I hope this goes some way towards repairing the harm that I have done. Know that I will always cherish and be grateful for the time we spent together. I wish for you to find all the love and purpose that you deserve.  _

_  
  
_

The sign off line is stripped through and blurred, as if someone had dropped liquid on the page. 

Then a simple signature,  _ Eliott _ .

_  
  
  
_

_ …. _

_  
  
_

Lucas rolls up the letter very neatly, takes three deep breaths. Then looks down at his chest.

It's strange, he could have sworn his heart was bleeding out dripping right into his hands and onto the floor.

_  
  
_

Gods.

_  
  
_

How is he even supposed to…

_  
  
_

What is this even…

_  
  
_

Fuck.

_  
  
_

He finds himself sitting on the floor somehow. For a brief instant he feels so utterly foolish.  He remembers all the times Eliott tried to talk to him when they were together, the hesitations in his gaze, the heaviness - and Lucas had run away, because he too was scared.  He never considered this possibility. That Hades was chafing under his godly role as much as he was.  And what he said about his brain being broken...god, the irony of it all. Hasn't he been in this situation before ? Rash to the point of leaving those he loves behind ?

This...doesn't this change everything ?

_  
  
_

But...no. The anger surges back into his chest. This could all be lies again. Is he really so stupid to fall for it twice ? 

_  
  
_

Fuck. He is so confused. He lifts his head and looks at the two women standing in his living room, Imane patient, Alexia very worried. 

_  
  
_

"So ?" Imane asks softly. "What is he saying ?" 

_  
  
_

"Sorry, no strategic info." Lucas mumbles. "He...he says that Zeus was lying, that he didn't care about power, that he just hid from me because he was scared of losing me, basically," he wipes his eyes. Fuck. He can't lose it in front of them. He has to hang on to whatever shred of dignity he has left. "He says he is sorry, that he never meant to hurt me. But fuck...I heard him laugh at me, say I was too easy, I fucking heard it…"

"He said that to your face ?" Alexia asks. 

"Well, no, there was smoke everywhere, I didn't actually see him saying that, but it was his voice, it…"

"Voices can be faked very easily with magic." Alexia says.  "Listen, when you came to my shop I gave him a protective charm. Did he use it ?" 

_  
  
_

Lucas nods. "Yeah, when the god-cops were after us."

_  
  
_

"Well, I told him the price was one year of his life. Do you really think he would sacrifice an entire year just to manipulate you ? And I talked to him, you know, he called me for help. He was so torn up about having to hide from you." 

Lucas blinks the wetness of his eyes away. He thinks about all the times Eliott could have used to seduce him a lot faster and didn't - after that time he got drunk in the club, after the attack of his mother's ghost, in the Magic Underground…He could have had Lucas under his spell so much easier if he hadn't been so cautious with this boundaries…what did that speak of if not the guilt linked to his secret…

But what if that was just his strategy, to wait until Lucas was hunted, deprived of his assets, isolated from his friends ? 

"Sofiane liked him," Imane says. "And he is a good judge of character." 

Lucas takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Tries to push past the anger and the neediness pulling him in opposite directions. He used to trust his intuitions once. What does he deeply, truly want ?

This letter speaks to how well Eliott knows him, if anything. He does want freedom, and choice. Deep down, that's always been what he was looking for. 

He rummages into the bag and gets out a tiny silver vial. The glass is old, dusty, clearly hand blown and full of flaws and little air bubbles. Inside, a silver liquid swirls slowly. 

He imagines it. Drinking this, and becoming just...human. Would he miss his powers ? Of course. But they have been at the core of his unhappiness for so long. And he likes the idea of discovering who he is without them. Being free of all the bullshit...gods, that sounds incredible. It's not as if he is of much use to his friends and their movement like this either, seen as how he has turned himself into a public menace.

And...if Eliott becomes human, too...Eliott and him can meet. And truly talk. Just as two people, figuring out their complicated past without the pressure of fate and the threat of power imbalance on their shoulders. 

Gods, the clarity and calm that image gives him... He likes that idea. He likes that a lot. 

Of course, there is always the risk that it is all a lie and that Eliott just sent him a poison that will subjugate him so the Fates can get their hands on him and send him to that cell…

_  
  
_

Before he can really think about what he is doing, he is holding the vial up and taking the stopper out, then raising it to his lips.

_  
  
_

Then there is a flash of purple smoke. Hecate disappears and reappears, on her knees right in front of him, holding his wrist and pulling it away. 

"What are you doing ?" He yells at her, frustrated, impulse boiling in his veins, sweet release so close he can taste it. "Let me go!" 

"What is that thing ?" She asks. There is something so scared then in her eyes he relents.

"It's a potion from Ananke. It will make me human again. It's for the best. I suck at being a god."

She pinches her lips together. "Tell me, won't that affect Eliott too ?" 

"Yeah. Because we're bound or something. But he says in the letter he will be okay with whatever I choose."

"Seven bloody hells. That fucking  _ moron _ ." She swears, emphasis on the last word.

_  
  
_

Lucas frowns, confused. "What ?" 

_  
  
_

"You drink that, and he's dead."

_  
  
_

Lucas lowers his arm in shock, a trill of terror piercing his heart.

_  
  
_

"What ?" 

_  
  
_

"You heard me. Oh, that fucking idiot. I should have suspected this when he didn't want to tell me what was in that bag. Listen, Lucas. He made me promise not to tell you, he didn't want to impact your choice, I bet, but I can't just stand by and let this happen." She takes a deep breath. "To get to Ananke's lair...he had to go through the Underworld."

_  
  
_

Lucas's mouth falls open. "The Underworld?"

_  
  
_

"Yes, and it gets worse. The reason why I know this is because my powers are linked to the chthonic realms. A few days ago, I sensed a huge disturbance, and then rumors about a new Hades being crowned, so I went into the Underworld. I found Eliott there, and he was wearing the crown of Hades, but he was in very bad shape. I tried to help him but all he wanted was for me to bring you this letter, said it would make everything better." 

"But...why didn't he bring it to me himself ?" 

"Because he is trapped down there, Lucas. The Underworld won't let him out. I don't know if it's because his energy levels are too low, that he's too weak or it just wants to keep him in there...but he tried, and he can't get out. And if you drink that potion and make him turn human again, with the Underworld being the feral mess full of restless creatures it is right now, and wounded on top of it...there is no way he is making it back out alive. Ever."

Lucas puts the stopper back on the vial and sets it down in horror. 

_  
  
_

He's been angry at Eliott, yes, because he hurt Lucas. But imagining him dead and trapped in the Underworld forever, without ever having been able to truly live, it makes him sick to the bone.

"That fucking...idiot." He manages. "He thinks he can just...sacrifice his life for me without even telling me !? What kind of martyr selfless bullshit…" Before he knows it, he's standing up. He feels angry again, but it's a different kind of anger, mixed in with the red-hot fear of caring. "You need to take me to the Underworld," he tells Alexia. "Because I need to punch his stupid face. And then I can drag him back here so we can have a proper talk." 

_  
  
_

She nods, grimly. "I agree. We need to be quick, because I think he was hiding the extent of his injuries to me."

Of course he was. 

_  
  
_

Lucas turns to Imane, and gives her the pouch as he puts Eliott's letter in his sweater pocket. "Can you hang on to this ? In case we don't make it back...I think this might benefit somebody else. Manon, for instance."

Imane frowns. "But of course you will make it back. Won't you ?" 

He hugs her tight as a response. "Turn this city upside down for me, will you ?" 

As soon as he lets go of her, Alexia puts a hand on his shoulder, and they're gone. 

_  
  
_

…

_  
  
_

He sees a flash of endless tunnels lit by torches - Alexia's domain, he supposes - and then they find themselves in the twilight air outside. It's...a cemetary.  On his left, he sees the city, and in the distance, like a bright blue torch, his burning tower.  It's really spectacular, projecting its blue light for miles around. If this has been going on for days, no wonder the people are terrified.

"How is Imane going to get out of there ? There are god-cops all around the building."

"Don't worry. I gave all the core members of the movement a token they can use to move around however they please. We're all on the wanted list now, too." 

_  
  
_

Wow.

_  
  
_

"I'm really sorry I fucked shit up for you."

"Yeah, well, save the excuses, the harm has been done. What we need now is to get Hades back here and in working order. You, too. You both can have your little existential crisis when our very real crisis is over. If you want to be human again, fine. But first, we need to defeat Zeus and the Fates. Things are too far gone to stop now. If we give up...most of us are going to end up either dead or in a cell."

_  
  
_

That's very fucked up. It adds one more layer to his ratcheting worries.  But at least now he has a direction and a purpose again. Yes, rescuing the man he professed to hate this very morning. Isn't that funny how life goes ? His feelings are too complicated to figure out but he knows one thing for absolutely certain. 

There is no way in hell Eliott is dying in that hole. There is too much unfinished between them. And _he_ is not the type to run away.

_  
  
_

They walk up to a big rock with a hole in it. 

"This is one of the main gates of the Underworld. According to the guardian, it's the one Eliott took, too. On a big scary hell horse with wings, and followed by hundreds of ghosts, but maybe he was exaggerating about that." 

_  
  
_

Fuck...what the fuck is he getting into….

_  
  
_

"Lucas...you know what it means for Persephone to walk into the Underworld, right ?" 

_  
  
_

He shivers. "Yeah." It means him, too, might not get out. "But it's okay. I'll be very careful not to eat any pomegranates."

_  
  
_

They arrive at the entrance of the cave. Inside, it is pitch black. Unnatural, and extremely uninviting. If he were listening to his instincts he would run away in the other direction. But...he is making a choice, right now. 

_  
  
_

Alexia takes a deep breath, and tries to step forward, and swears. 

"What's going on ?" 

"I can't get in," she explains, and pushes forward, but an invisible wall holds her back. "It won't let me." She mutters something under her breath and throws some purple sparks at the darkness, but nothing changes. "I don't understand, I got in fine last time…"

Lucas steps forward in turn. He can feel a strong resistance, but it isn't as completely impermeable as a wall. 

"I'm the Queen of the fucking Underworld !" He shouts in frustration, "and you're going to let me the fuck in !" 

To his surprise, it works. One moment his foot is suspended in the air as if held in place by a magnetic field and the next, he is tumbling forward into the dark. 

"Good luck, Lucas !" He hears Alexia shout in the distance. And then, nothing.

_  
  
_

Wow, is it fucking dark in here.  He takes a deep breath. He's not a kid anymore. He's not afraid of the dark. He's fine. 

He summons a ball of blue flame in his palm, and the darkness jumps on it to extinguish it as if  _ alive _ . 

"I don't fucking think so." 

_  
  
_

He does it again, but this time the flame is two meters high, and the darkness only manages to gnaw at the edges of it.

He sees that he is in a cave, and there is something that looks like corridor a bit further up ahead.

Well, of all the reckless stupid things he's ever done in his life, this one takes the cake. But it's too late to turn back.

_  
  
_

So he goes on, into the belly of the Underworld.

_  
  
_

…

_  
  
_

His flame casts an eerie glow on the walls, and the rock seems abnormally shiny and sinuous, as if he was walking into the entrails of an inactive volcano. 

Finally, he arrives at a river. There is a little pont made of wood reaching over it, but no boats in sign. 

He climbs onto it regardless, and when he arrives to the end of it and looks down, he sees an outline of a barge under the water. 

"Umm...Charon ?" 

_  
  
_

There is an old, cackling laugh behind him, and Lucas turns in a flash.  The ...man standing in front of him is the oldest creature he has ever seen, a face so wrinkled his mouth get lost in it, long and filthy grey hair and beard, no teeth left.

"It's too late, little flower queen. Your Hades is no more."

_  
  
_

Lucas's heart stops in his chest.

_  
  
_

"No fucking way." He would sense it, wouldn't it, if Eliott was truly dead ? "Take me to the other side."

Charon laughs and spits on the deck. "No."

_  
  
_

"You're the ferrier. And I'm the Queen of the Underworld. Take me to the fucking other side."

"Not yet, you aren't. And what is a queen to be when her king lies in dust anyway?" 

"Fine, you horrible little man. I'll get to him myself."

_  
  
_

He calls on to the earth, and it is much more difficult than upstairs, but dirt is dirt. Finally, his vines come rushing out of the ground, and weave themselves into a bridge over the river. He starts climbing as it is still building itself. 

_  
  
_

"You insolent fool !" Charon yells at him. "This Hades has let us down ! Only his sacrifice can put the Underworld back to rights. And so will yours !" He raises his hands, and Lucas barely has the time to turn around before he sees that all the waters of the river have lifted themselves up into a massive wall and it is full of eyes and teeth and hate…

_  
  
_

It smashes into him, sweeping him off his fragile bridge and into the deep, and he can feel sharp things along his skin and murky water push into his nose and mouth and it is so...so cold...and his lungs deep like they are going to explode… Then something pulls him by the neck of his clothes and tugs him upwards, ripping him from the hungry embrace of the river. Next thing he knows, he is thrown onto the river bank, soaked, coughing and spluttering out water and taking in full breaths of air.

He sees the thing looming over him, and his heart dies a little.

_  
  
_

Three massive hound heads, with eyes as red as burning embers, impossibly pointed teeth, pitch black fur, and breath that stinks like sulfur, all attached to the same massive torso.

_  
  
_

Oh god. This is how he dies. Dog food. Great. 

_  
  
_

He closes his eyes…

_  
  
_

The hellhound yips enthusiastically, and then licks a broad slobbering trace over his face, once and then again.

_  
  
  
_

Uhhh…

_  
  
  
_

Well, okay. 

_  
  
_

Sure. This is a thing that is happening. 

_  
  
_

He pushes the head away with his hands and wipes the saliva off his face before opening his eyes and sitting up. The creature looks at him with a happy, playful grin.

"Um, thanks ?" 

"Damn you, Cerberus, you stupid mutt !" On the other side, Charon is shaking his fist in the air. "Can't you see that's not  _ your _ Persephone ?" 

Cerberus certainly disagrees, as he barks at the man and then lays one of his massive, massive heads on Lucas's shoulder. It's like being crushed by an overly friendly bag of soil. 

Then the dog rolls around and flops on his back, presenting his belly for rubs. The ground shakes under them as he does.

_  
  
_

Lucas laughs in surprise and delight. He's not going to say no to an ally, especially one that seems to be made of two tons of muscles, teeth and claws. He scratches at the hellhound's belly, and his fur is ...well. A furnace. 

He can't help but gloat a little. For once that a myth is working at his advantage...

"Well, at least  _ some _ here still have a sense of loyalty."

"You arrogant interloper, I will show you loyalty." Charon hisses and then raises his arms, as if to send another wave in their direction, but Cerberus growls and then fire flows out of all three of his mouths, casting a warm flow over the sinister river, and the old man slowly lowers his arms.

_  
  
_

"That's a _good_ _boy_ ," Lucas says, tone exaggerated, scratching Cerberus behind one of his ears. Cerberus responds with a friendly headbutt that almost throws Lucas back into the river.

_  
  
  
_

…

_  
  
  
_

His momentary elation at having found an ally and one-upped a fossilized douchebag is short lived. Cerberus is guiding him along a narrow tunnel, and there are... human bones and skulls encrusted in the walls. Some of them still have rotting flesh on them. That's...not very reassuring.

When he hears some of the skulls' teeth start chattering, he jumps and sidles closer to his massive new friend.  Is this how the dead find themselves in the afterlife ? As some wall ornament ? That would majorly suck. Hopefully the place is just in need of new management, which is good, since…

_  
  
_

Wait, no, what is he even thinking ? He's just here to get Eliott back, give him a stern talking to and then haul ass back upstairs in time for the revolution. 

_  
  
_

The tunnels are very long, and give him enough time for his anxiety to spiral again.  What exactly did Alexia mean by "he's in bad shape" ?  It's strange to be so worried about a man he was still very decided to never see again this morning. But...that letter, gods. Thinking about it gives him chills. It's as if...for a moment, it had brought  _ his Eliott _ back to him - earnest, romantic, troubled, lonely, honorable Eliott. Aware he messed up but willing to go to hell, literally, to prove to Lucas the purity of his intent and to give him his freedom back. It's so romantic, in a way, or it would be if it was real, and if Lucas wasn't some sort of chaos-junkie nasty piece of work - 

But maybe he is going to find Eliott grinning at him, majestic and completely at ease, delighted that Lucas fell into his trap -

_ Would that be so bad, _ a little voice whispers, and gods be damned, what the fuck is wrong with him - 

That would be bad. He would have to fight. But it's somehow less bad than the idea of being trapped by Zeus and the Fates in some cell upstairs. Here at least there is no scrutiny, just him and his godly consort. If Hades tries to control him, Lucas will make his life miserable in return. But at least it will be just them handling their own affairs, none of that judgment and bigotry. Knowing who Hades really is, having that question finally answered...it gives him something to finally react to. It's an end to the maddening uncertainty. 

A part of him wonders with sick fascination what Eliott would be like if he were truly evil. If he would want Lucas to be meek and submissive, or actually be willing to indulge his taste for chaos. God, what a pair they'd make, if they gave in to that fully. Going up against Zeus together, striking down the Fates, laying waste to the city and ruling over the ruins together...It's disturbing. He can't lie though, it thrills him a little bit too. But he's had a very messy week. He's not going to overly psychoanalyze himself. Beyond being painfully aware that there is a part of him that just wants to be with Eliott  _ no matter what.  _

But no - he has to be firm. Eliott should grovel a little bit more, at least, if the letter is true. He messed up. Lucas is hurt. He does have enough self respect to recognize that and not want to pass it under silence. 

But…

_  
  
_

Gods, he can't really imagine what it must have been like, can he ? Being chosen as a flower goddess is small fries compared to being told at eighteen you will have to spend the rest of your life in the cold, dark kingdom of the dead. Especially for Eliott, sweet Eliott, who thrives on light and color and touch and beauty. Oh, yes. Lucas had felt that when they were together, that he had the power to unlock so much potential within Eliott that had been pushed down and kept in the dark Eliott thought he was bound to. It's difficult to believe that was a lie - it had been so intoxicating, feeding Eliott's creativity, his heart, his happiness and potential ; just as Eliott had given him that peace and groundedness and safety. Yeah, he can't deny how good it was, even if...he didn't really understand where it came from, but…

And imagining Eliott on the run all this time - way worse than just flight instinct or wanderlust. He must have been terrified. And in a sense, he wanted the same as Lucas, to carve a life for himself away from the control of the Fates. He'd chosen a different poison - transience, hiding, and constant change where Lucas had chosen control, greed and disappearing into his work. Could he really judge which of the two options was better ? 

Of course, maybe Eliott was lying about everything and he really was leading a cushy life as a successful exorcist in a city far away. But then...why wait so long in exile to come back and claim his power ? That's what really makes no sense, now that he thinks about it. The more he waited, the more Lucas gained in power, influence, self-knowledge. He would have been so much easier to manipulate as a 22 year old who was still at the start of his business, still needed allies and full of insecurities. So if Eliott truly wanted to do that…

Maybe he waited to gain enough power to summon the ghosts to haunt Lucas, but…

Ugh. His brain is tying itself into worse and worse knots while the tunnels stretch on for what seems like forever. He could so easily get lost here and he starts to wonder if Cerberus truly knows where he is going or if he is just leading Lucas astray. At some point they find a door, but all it opens up on is more tightly packed soil. The ceilings are getting more and more narrow, too, and soon he feels suffocated. Anxiety rises in his throat, and the power left in his belly roils and agitates itself like a trapped snake. 

_  
  
_

He stops. 

This place is fucking with him, he can sense it. Leeching his strength as his mind eats away at itself. And he cannot let it get to him. 

Cerberus stops too when he notices that Lucas has fallen behind, and sits down, craning all three of his heads to the left in a very puppy-like inquisitive gesture.

Lucas takes a moment to settle himself. It's as if...he is just as lost in those tunnels as he is lost in his own mind. 

His insecurities tell him that he is a pathetic fool, that he is walking right into a trap, that he hasn't learned his lesson, that he should have stayed in his tower and let everything burn. And that he should now prepare to fight for his life and truly wreck the place. But after the few horrible days he's had, he's not sure listening to them is something he wants to do anymore. He's seen that leads nowhere good. At all. He's never feel as trapped as he did in his tower of self-made solitude. 

His more needy self wants to run to Eliott's feet and promise he will be a good little wife and that he will do whatever it takes to make Eliott happy and make sure he doesn't leave Lucas again. Which is deeply ridiculous, and embarrassing, and he was the one who left anyway, and...well yeah, he can recognize that drive but that doesn't mean he needs to cave in to it. 

_  
  
_

So what does he truly want ? 

_  
  
_

He wants there to be a third choice - between aggression and submission, between surrendering to fate and breaking everything around him to get free. 

He wants to talk to Eliott, and see him talk about what happened with his own eyes, and ask him a few questions. Ask him if there was anything else he lied about. Ask him why he thought Lucas would react so badly to learning - well, he knows that already, he spent his time talking about how Hades could go fuck himself. Maybe ask him what it feels like to be Hades. Ask him...what sort of a future he sees for himself, and for them, now that he is no longer hiding from the Fates. 

_  
  
_

He wants to set some boundaries. Even if Eliott did tell the truth he can't just jump back into passion headfirst. He needs time to learn to trust Eliott again. Time to get to really know him. 

To see how Eliott takes on his mantle. 

But first - well, they need to take the Fates down, don't they ? They won't ever be free as long as they are still running around. Even if they became human, chances are they would still be wanted by the authorities. And...well, they can't leave their friends in the lurch. So first they will fight together. As soon as Lucas finds a way to get them both out. 

After that...well...what it really boils down to is this : he wants to give Eliott another chance. What they had was just too special to throw away, and Lucas is angry at himself from reacting so impulsively. He had a hand in their failure to communicate and his short sightedness, judging Hades without ever meeting him. And now that Eliott is in danger, a lot of his misgivings are melting away like snow in the sun. Even if this might be a trap...he can't not respond to the situation. If Eliott is finally being honest and Lucas left him in the dark, he would never forgive himself. It has been such a long difficult road for the both of them, and Lucas doesn't want to be the one to give up. If there is just the slightest hope...

Lucas wants to trust him. He does. And as he stands there, in a musty corridor in the underworld, wet and covered and grime, with a three headed monster dog as sole companion, he realises...He's always wanted to trust people, in his heart of hearts, and to love, freely and fully, no matter what the bumps on the road are. And if there is just the tiniest hope that this all could lead in the right direction, then...wouldn't it be more cowardly to give up ?

Eliott said in his letter that his heart was too full of fear to love him properly but the truth is...so is Lucas's. Full of unresolved anger and unexpressed grief and hurt and the drive to break things. And fear, too. And if that makes them incapable of love, then...what's even the point of anything ? 

_  
  
_

He looks down, and sees that a few vines have broken through the soil - but one of them has blossomed into a flower. It's the strangest flower he has ever seen, blue with a dark purple heart and petals full of holes that move as if they were breathing.  It's beautiful. His eyes are humid all of a sudden, at the joy of seeing that, even in this place, he is capable of making something blossom. He missed that so much, the wonder of creating life. The knowledge he can make beauty even in the darkest of places. 

He bends down and picks the flower, and puts it behind his ear. 

It's time he owned the flower goddess thing. Because this is who he is - and right now ? He is damn proud of it. 

_  
  
  
_

…

_  
  
  
_

After a few more turns...he finally arrives to a massive sculpted stone arch, which gives onto another corridor, but this time its walls are solid stone, and the ceiling is supported by marble pillars.

_  
  
_

They are getting  _ somewhere _ .

_  
  
  
_

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Lucas is somehow exhilarated. He knows the story, Persephone taken to the Underworld against her wishes, and the myriad interpretations - and here he is, storming into Hades' palace of his own free will, with a big monster dog, a flower behind his ear and a need for answers. He is going to face this big shadow that has been hanging over his life for ten years, on his own terms. No matter what happens...that will always feel to him like rewriting fate. 

_  
  
_

The corridor ends on a desolate courtyard, over which an old castle on a hill towers, its ruins like an antique palace worn down by age. At its base, a wide flight of stairs leads upwards.

He knows Eliott is there. He can feel it. It's the only source of energy in this place that feels  _ alive _ .

The courtyard is framed by skeletons dressed like soldiers of old, with helmets, shields and lances. When Lucas passes them by, their eyes start glowing a deep red. 

Cerberus whimpers. 

Lucas takes a deep breath, adjusts his flower, and starts climbing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhhhhhh alright alright alright. I had this chapter pretty much planned from the start, so how did you like it ? did you expect this ? what do you think of Lucas's change of heart ? I wanted to add more but this chapter is already long enough, so, you will get the reunion next time ^^  
>  After that, we will finally have some time for slow recovery, long awaited conversations, and the reclaiming of the Underworld from the shadows <3


	17. Chapter 16 : Eliott & Lucas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stories within stories within stories, that's all we are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow...This chapter has been a long time coming. I hope you like it as much as I loved writing it. It's a bit...experimental, and I hope you liked the new format. <3 It's also, well. Very very drama. And a shit ton of worldbuilding.
> 
> Our boys really have gone through a lot, and it's all coming to a head in this one. Enjoy <3
> 
> content warning : description of injuries, body horror

_ Chapter 15 - Eliott & Lucas  _

LUCAS 

  
  


With every step he takes in Hades' palace, Lucas finds himself wanting to run. Not away, but towards him. But even walking is difficult. The air is heavy, dead, without even the hint of a breeze. It was cold in the tunnels but now it's hot, in that sticky uncomfortable way. Dusty, too, and Lucas finds himself coughing until his throat is sore. 

The place is in utter disrepair. Not only is it extremely old, it looks completely neglected. Strewn across the place are the remains of some party that took place a millennia ago, broken chairs and goblets, place with food that had time to mold and then mummify, tattered draperies, all covered in thick layers of grime and cobwebs.  And...there are signs of a battle too. Broken shields, helmets, arrows stuck in the walls, thick traces of black stains on the floor. Lucas's heart speeds up at the sight. What even happened here ? Are there truly any creatures in this realm that would risk an assault on this place ? And if yes, what sort of terrifying powers do they possess that it would be worth it ? 

Dread sinks into his chest, gaining in strength as he realizes how unnaturally silent the place is. Silent like a grave. As if the entire Underworld is waiting to ambush him.

Nevertheless, he keeps climbing, and soon he arrives at the last floor. He stops on the landing. This is it. He knows Eliott is there, at the end of that corridor. It's as if a thread in his chest is pulling him forward, a magnetic energy drawing him in. In this place, it would make sense that their godly connection would be so much stronger. 

Lucas takes a deep breath, and tries to compose himself. He wants to be solemn, grave, and not throw himself at Eliott like an overeager puppy. Open, compassionate, but firm. Yes. 

He gets an absurd impulse to do a power pose and recite an affirmation but he brushes it away. This is not a board meeting. 

He isn't going to punch Eliott as he said, especially if he is a bit dinged up. He's going to give him a chance. But he is going to press for answers. He is neither a wet blanket nor some sort of rage-fuelled hellion. Balance. He can do this. 

  
  
  
  


He steps forward into the open-sky courtyard, and his stomach drops. 

  
  
  
  


The place is an empty temple, only columns supporting what reminds of the cracked, dome-shaped ceiling. In the middle of it, there is a raised altar made of marble that could also very well pass for a tomb.

On it, laid down, is a black form. From its back, turned towards the entrance, a stain of blood drips from the marble onto the stone floor.

  
  
  


Eliott. 

  
  
  


That's so much blood. 

  
  
  


Too much blood.

  
  
  


Lucas's head swims, making him dizzy. For the last few meters, he runs, only stopping when he is at the edge of the altar. 

  
  


Eliott is curled up onto himself in the fetal position, his eyes closed, his face deadly pale. From his back, about a dozen of glass shards protrude, some of them as thick as daggers, each coated in blood at the base. 

Fuck. Fuck, this is bad. If he wasn't a god, he would be dead, ten times over. In fact, even then...He lets out a noise of despair, and his back contracts in sympathetic pain. 

  
  


"Eliott ? Eliott, it's Lucas. Are you okay ?" He feels eminently stupid, as soon as the words leave his lips. Of course he isn't fucking okay. He hunches very carefully over Eliott. "Eliott, please, talk to me."

  
  


The silence is deafening.

  
  


Lucas reaches out with a hand, then, to touch Eliott's cheek. What he feels almost makes him lose it, a jolt of sheer horror coursing through his veins. Eliott is cold to the touch, his flesh hard like that of a corpse that has been dead for hours.

  
  
  
  


This can't be. It just can't. It can't end like this. 

  
  
  
  


He sends his awareness rushing forward. At first, it's decay and destruction that he picks up - echoes of Eliott's pain, the horrifying slice of glass against muscle - and little else. Everything here has been destroyed or dead for centuries. Compared to upstairs, it would be peaceful if it wasn't so terrifyingly empty. 

It's about change, he realizes through the panic. His perception tracks change. And life, at its core, is change, growth and entropy entwined. So really, there is no reason for his power to be one or the other. 

As he realizes this, it's as if something reverses itself - the river flowing backwards, waterfall going up, rain back into clouds, negative back to color - and...he  _ sees _ again.

Of course, everything is utterly dead. Well...almost everything. He can sense his own heartbeat. Something in the back room of the temple, very faint. And…

A spark of life in the man laying in front of him.

Desperate hope rushes through him. Eliott is alive. He is the weakest he has ever been, but he is still there. 

Lucas deepens his awareness, chasing that incredibly tenuous spark of life. Him still being alive makes little sense, but Lucas is not about to question a miracle.  He can feel the disarray inside Eliott, not just his depleted energy or his wounds or exhaustion. The internal coherence of his powers is all torn up. Lucas doesn't know how to explain it….

Except that yes, he does. This is his fault. He did this by ripping his powers away when they were so entangled. He knew he hurt Hades but at the time, he didn't even care. 

Fuck. He has to fix this. Without any hesitation, he opens the floodgates, and pours as much energy as he can into Eliott's limp form, energy of growth and life and healing. He lets it flow until he is dizzy and short on breath. But...it doesn't land as well as it should. Something in their connection has been broken. 

  
  


"Eliott, please. Please come back to me," Lucas pleads, any thoughts of composure forgotten. "You idiot, you can't do this to me. This can't be the end of us. I'm sorry, alright. I'm sorry I rushed away and I pulled your powers out and I...sorry I was such a stubborn asshole, I...I was scared, Eliott, I was stupid, I...you can't leave me, alright ? You owe it to me. We're a mess now and I refuse to let this be the end of us. You need to make this better, and so do I, because we're in this together, ok ? I came all the way down to the Underworld, and it wasn't to give up on you, because I love you. I'm so scared and confused and you hurt me but I still love you. Even if you're Hades. And I believe you. That you didn't mean to betray me, that...that you do love me. I mean...who would be stupid enough to walk into this place willingly if not for love ?" He laughs somewhat bitterly, and wipes the tears from his eyes, and cups Eliott's cheek as tenderly as he can. "Please, baby. Come back to me. That's where you belong." 

  
  


It's as if those words unlock something inside Eliott, as Lucas feels the beginning of warmth under his palm and then Eliott's eyelids start to flutter. Lucas wants to shout in relief and elation, even though he knows it's too soon.

  
  


Eliott opens one eye first and then the other, blue-green like an oasis of life in the desert. His eyes are bloodshot, his face still deathly pale - but at least, he is moving.

  
  


He smiles, as he sees Lucas, so slowly, costing him incredible effort. 

  
  


"I didn't know my dreams would come true after death," he whispers, his voice a thin trickle of gravel.

  
  


What ? No, that can't…

  
  


"Eliott, you're not dead ! You're alive ! I'm really here!" 

At that, Eliott frowns, and then tries to get up, letting out a sharp cry of pain and falling back onto the stone. 

Lucas gently puts his hand on Eliott's shoulder.

"No, no, don't move. You have... huge shards of glass poking through your back. We need to figure that out first."

"What...Lucas ? Are you really here ?" Eliott blinks again. Lucas notices that his lips are coated in blood and his worry soars again. How the hell is he supposed to get Eliott anywhere in this state ? 

"That's right, you're not getting rid of me so easy," Lucas quips, glossing over the fact that he was the one to leave in the first place.

  
  


"You're not supposed to be here," Eliott warbles. 

  
  


"Well, I am. Deal with it."

  
  


"No, you can't be here." He repeats, and then raises his hand from underneath himself and Lucas gasps. Something happened to that hand - the skin is messed up, somewhere between wrinkled and burned, - and for the rest, it looks as if it had been dipped in liquid silver, glowing slightly blue. "Ananke, she showed me...I have to be here, I have to. But you don't."

Lucas pinches his lips together. "Nobody is telling me where I should and should not be. And I'm not leaving you down here either."

"It's too late, Lucas. I let the darkness in, I…" His voice lowers to a whisp. "Why didn't you take the elixir I sent you ? Save yourself while you can…" He coughs, then, and whimpers in pain, spitting out blood on the stone. Lucas's heart is on tenterhooks as he watches.

"I can't do that," he says softly. "Eliott, it would kill you. I can't let that happen." 

"I'm already dead," Eliott coughs. "Please go."

  
  


His words strike horror in Lucas's chest.

He expected Eliott to be stuck here, wounded maybe, but not this. It's as if he's given up any hope for himself, and it guts Lucas. 

  
  


"Eliott, please -" 

  
  


"You heard him." 

  
  


Lucas jumps as he hears the voice coming from the back of the temple. He raises his head.

There is a woman standing there. She is tall, thin, straight hair falling around her face like a sheet. Her features are beautiful, but harsh, and strangely familiar. 

She isn't alive. That is clear by her ghostly pallor and almost immaterial countenance. But there is a fire in her gaze that separates her from any mindless ghosts he's seen before.

  
  
  


She floats towards him.

  
  


"He does not want to come with you. You need to let him go."

  
  


"I - no, I don't - who are you ?" 

  
  


She ignores him, and kneels down on the floor next to the altar, so that her face is close to Eliott's. Like this, it is extremely obvious they are related. 

So this must be his mother. 

  
  


"Mom…" Eliott whispers, confirming his hunch.

  
  


"It's alright, my darling. You tried your best. You can stop fighting now." 

"It hurts so much." Eliott whimpers. 

  
  


"I know. Everything will be fine. Just let go, and you can come with me, and we can be at peace."

  
  


"Step away from him," Lucas growls. 

  
  


She looks at him, then, and scoffs. "Are you an exorcist, now ?" 

He ignores her, bending over Eliott's prone form and sitting down on the stone. 

  
  


"Don't listen to her, ok ? There still is hope. We can fix this." His voice breaks unexpectedly. "I love you, Eliott. Don't give up on us." 

  
  


"You are so selfish," the ghost says. "Do you know how painful it is for him to be alive ? How painful it has always been ? Always at war with his own mind, with the world. He deserves to rest."

"What he deserves is a mother who doesn't encourage him to kill himself," he snarls. "You're just doing that because you're lonely, and you're used to being the center of his universe. Well, guess what. He's not alone anymore. He deserves a full, wonderful life." 

As he finishes talking, he calls on the blue flames once more. 

She laughs, in surprise and anger, but as the flames create a protective circle around the massive stone slab they're resting on, she is cast away, flickers, and disappears.

Lucas thinks of Eliott casting away his ghostly mother, and feels a brief rush of satisfaction. At being able to protect Eliott for once. 

It doesn't last long as he walks around the altar and gets on his knees so he can be closer to Eliott himself. 

Eliott's eyes are full of tears.

"I'm sorry, Lucas, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay." Lucas cups his face again and gets closer, as close as he can, their noses almost touching. "You messed up, but that happens. I messed up too. I spent weeks treating you like shit. I was a stubborn idiot, I tried to avoid having that talk, I hurt you, I...spent my life putting up walls and using people instead of asking for help with my problems. This thing we have been chosen for, it's...so scary and so confusing. I don't blame us for messing up. And I forgive you, ok ?" He runs his thumb across Eliott's cheekbone, feather soft. "You don't have to punish yourself. We can figure it out together." 

  
  


"You should be free. You don't belong here," Eliott responds, gaze foggy, as if Lucas's words weren't entirely getting through to him. 

  
  


Gods. Lucas's heart is breaking slowly, crumb by crumb. He hates it, that Eliott values his own life so little. 

"I can't," Lucas says, tears dripping down onto Eliott's sweater, still the same he was wearing on that fateful morning in the cottage. "I can't be free as long as you are not."

  
  


It's true. And it's terrifying. His whole life he's tried to convince himself that he needed to be as independent as possible, as authoritative and powerful and successful as he could. He saw freedom as an unassailable tower. But he had made himself a prisoner of his own life. He'd had it all wrong. And what kind of man would he be to leave Eliott to the darkness just because fate had randomly decreed that he belonged there ? He's been fighting against those arbitrary decrees his whole life. And Eliott deserves someone to fight for his freedom, too. 

"I'm so sorry," Eliott repeats, his voice thin and labored. "I wish I could…" His beautiful eyes look unfocused and so distant, so far away. "But it's too much. I can't...I can't do it..." 

  
  


"What, baby, tell me what's going on, please, I can help, we can…" Lucas babbles. 

  
  


"Lucas," Eliott says, and there is so much tenderness in his voice, Lucas wants to kiss him. And then he spasms in pain, and just like that, the little light inside his chest splutters and dies. 

  
  


Lucas screams. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


ELIOTT 

  
  
  
  


_ He had felt her before even laying eyes on her. A force unlike anything he'd ever encountered before. As if gravity had gained sentience, and hunger.  _

  
  


_ Ananke. Necessity. _

  
  


_ She had been trapped for so long, down there, alone. The spirit of the dead avoided her, terrified. Nobody among the living was strong enough to come visit her, so deep under the crust of the earth. The pressure of being around her, of perceiving the reality of her, would have crushed most minds into dust.  _

_ "But you are more than that, little fly. No, you...you carry something that makes you different. It's that vein of divine vastness in your soul. Deep down, even though you avoid it, your mind was shaped big enough to accommodate the spirit of everyone who dwells in this place. You do not know it yet, but you are connected to the history of mankind. You are the guardian. You are the vessel. You are the last refuge." Her words had echoed in his head before he'd even set foot in her lair.  _

_ When he had finally crushed her threshold, he'd had to swallow a cry of revulsion.  _

_ She had the torso and arms of a woman, but she was stuck from the waist down in a thick whorl of spider silk that went on to cover the walls of the cave. And the dark, bulbous mass he could vaguely distinguish below that had nothing human about it at all. Below her normal arms, which she held crossed over her chest, two other pairs protruded on the side, black and chitinous, busy handling and weaving the silk. Her eyes were milky white, and on her elongated forehead, six more blinked at him in unison. _

_ He wasn't able to keep himself from having a shiver of disgust.  _

_ "I was human like you, once," she said, still echoing in his thoughts.  _

_ Gods. And he'd thought his fate was bad. In that moment he wondered how the Underworld would change him, in time. _

_ "Don't feel sad for me, little fly. I am beyond good or bad now. I am Necessity. And in time, you too will be changed by your divine role." _

_ Horror washed over him then, but he did his best to ignore it. "I have a favor to ask of you." _

_ "I know. You are here to ask me for the power to unweave the threads first woven in this very place."  _

_ "I…" _

_ "Yes, little fly, there is nowhere left to run. I see all of you. But are you willing to see ?"  _

_ "Yes," he said without thinking about it. "Whatever it takes." _

_ "You say that now." She replied ruefully. "But you will regret it." She pulled the spiderweb in front of her away, revealing an ancient cauldron, full of silvery liquid. _

_ Eliott took a step forward. Below the shimmering surface, he could see people's faces, vague silhouettes, contours of places and buildings.  _

_ "This is my mirror of knowledge. It shows me all that was, and all that could be." She traced the surface with the pincer at the extremity of one of her lower arms. The liquid did not ripple like normal water, but moved in strange fractal patterns. "It allows me to pick the next incarnations of the gods." _

_ Eliott felt a rush of unbidden curiosity, and couldn't stop himself from asking. _

_ "Why did you pick me ? And Lucas ? And the others...we're not really…" He stopped himself before he could blurt out an implication that she hadn't done her job properly.  _

_ She blinked with all of her eyes at once and stared at him for a while, as if the answer was above his capacity to comprehend. _

_ "I used to think my job was simple, you know. I was picked when the Gods decided to leave this Earth, leaving their essence to be born again in mankind. I thought it would be simple, to keep their legacy alive. Just pick the humans who most closely resembled them. And so I did, for a few millennia…" She briefly closes her eyes. "But...it did not work. The stories became more and more washed out. The essences started to die out. So...I started taking some risks. It was the right thing to do. But it displeased people upstairs."  _

_ She pulled more of the web away on the wall to Eliott's left, revealing a rock wall cleaved through with deep, enormous claw marks. "They came to set me on the straight path once again. They put in place a system to control whoever I chose. They thought I would...but no. A story can go on for millennia with little changes but the condition is that each storyteller must put his own life and passion into it. Otherwise, it dies. There is no transmission. The divine spark can only survive if it is made anew each generation." _

  
  


_ Eliott frowned, not understanding her cryptic words.  _

  
  


_ "The Underworld is dying." She continues. "It is the hardest story to tell. I have been looking for a Hades who would bring it back to life. But my recent choices all have let the crown wear them instead of wearing the crown." _

_ Eliott brought his hand to his head, to the sharp thing still clamped to his skull. Was she proposing a bargain ? _

_ "I can do it. If you give me what I need to free Lucas."  _

_ She sighed, not answering for a long moment, as if weighing him. _

_ "You do not know what you are asking for. But there is no way to explain it until it is too late." She reached into the silk, and brought up a little glass vial with one of her spidery claws. Then she extended it towards him. She clearly wanted him to fill it up himself. _

_ He shivered, scared of the consequences she was alluding to. _

_ But deep down he knew - there was no price he wasn't willing to pay. His whole being was in accordance over this. _

_ He took a deep breath, and delicately took the little bottle from her, taking the stopper out. He looked at the liquid in the cauldron, seeing his own face reflected to him. Would it hurt ? The most important thing was to keep himself together long enough to get this to Lucas.  _

_ Well, there was no way he was going to avoid touching the liquid, so might as well get over with it.  _

_ He plunged the vial under in one fell swoop, his fingers disappearing into the liquid to the second knuckles. As it filled, he felt at first a sensation of numbness, fingers prickling, silky and cold against his skin. Then, out of nowhere it started burning. He let out a sharp cry and almost let the bottle fall into the cauldron, but caught himself and tightened his grip. Somehow, he knew he would not get a second chance. _

  
  


_ Finally the vial was full, and he took it out swiftly and put the stopper back, careful not to touch the silver with his other hand. _

_ He realized, though, that something strange was happening to his vision. As if the corners were being eaten by moths, replacing it by silvery threads, and he could feel it too - stories. Memories, whispering voices, ghosts, asking for entrance to his brain, and this time he had no way of stopping it. The denizens of the Underworld, the faint echoes of their lives, and their fear and pain and confusion. It had been so long since the afterlife had been a place of comfort, more than centuries. Deprived of all warmth and light, they all crawled to him and to his flickering life. _

  
  


_ It was so much. Too much. They were going to suck him dry, empty him out. Like a thousand ghost hands pawing at his insides, turning him inside out. _

  
  
  


_ Maybe that's the price he had to pay.  _

  
  


_ Then the pain really started. He opened his eyes to see the silver substance was crawling up his hand, somehow, and everywhere it went, it burned. He fell to his knees, managing to put the vial into his bag before the pain overtook him.  _

_ "I am sorry, little fly." He heard Ananke's voice say, and then the darkness took his mind. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


LUCAS 

  
  
  
  
  


"Please, please, please, please…" 

Lucas mumbles into Eliott's skin as he kisses his forehead, hands in his hair, and roaming over his body, trying in vain to sense some sort of life in him, but the more seconds tick by the more panic sets in. 

He'd never considered this as a possibility. Never. Eliott just was the rock in the storm, the unflappable badass who sent ghosts and zombies away, who held Lucas through some of the worst moments of his life without flinching. And Eliott being Hades...it should have made him even more unstoppable. 

  
  


But here he is, broken. And it's Lucas's fault.

  
  
  


He lays his hands on Eliott's chest and lets his power flow - everything he has left. But it feels pointless. He knows plants, but not human bodies. He doesn't understand what ails Eliott, not like Eliott understood him. It's as if he is locked in a prison of flesh and Lucas can't get to him, not at all. 

  
  


He gets flashes of a world in ruins. This, this could be a reason to burn it all. 

  
  


But he lets go of the rage. It's no use to him now. Instead, he presses his forehead into the cool marble, and prays, for the first time in his life. For something, someone in this place to have an ounce of compassion left.

  
  


"Please, if anyone can hear me. Please help me. Please help us. This is not his time. He's…" Eliott ran away from this place. Is this some sort of revenge ? The thought makes him so angry. But he swallows it. "We didn't know what we were doing. The Fates, they...they have this narrow idea of what gods should be. But we could be so much more. It could be good for this place, too. It could be so good for everyone. But I can't do it alone. Eliott, he grounds me, he keeps me human, he's...he's just so good. And if this is some sort of fucked up test, if you think he is not strong enough, you are so fucking wrong. He's...he could make this place so lovely. I know it. I was dead inside when he met me, and he brought me back to life." He swallows. He doesn't know what he is saying, but it almost feels like the dark is listening. "He could bring life and beauty to the most desolate of places. If you let him die...you will never know what that's like again. Never. And -" 

  
  


A voice cuts through his monologue. It's a woman's voice, young, high and clear.

  
  


"Lucas !" She calls. 

  
  


He turns his head, and even if he has never seen her face before, he knows immediately who she is. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


ELIOTT 

  
  
  
  
  


_ He doesn't know how he found the strength to get himself out of Ananke's lair after that, but he did. He forced himself back up those stairs, into a ruined palace, found a pen and some paper, and poured his heart out.  _

_ He didn't tell Lucas everything, though. Eliott wanted him to be able to make a choice without feeling guilty about what was happening to Eliott. Because that, he had brought it on himself. _

_ But his plan had almost failed, when he found a door back to the world of the living and could not go through it, the thick darkness holding him back, like a fly in glue. He'd collapsed in despair then, until Hecate had miraculously found his way to him. He had used every single drop of persuasion power he had in his body to convince her to bring the letter and the vial to Lucas. Thankfully she had accepted. _

  
  


_ After that, he had dragged himself onto a slab of marble and collapsed. He knew that whatever Lucas chose, it wouldn't bode well for him.  _ _ He tried to make his peace with that. But it was difficult. He found, in that instant, that he didn't want to die. And he didn't want to spend his life down here either. But these were his options right now. _

_ He was so young. And he used to be in love with the beauty of the world. _

_ He could feel the Underworld pressing down on him, darkness so heavy it felt alive. It made him feel so hopeless, and in a moment of weakness, he thought about letting it in. Maybe it would ease the pain.  _ _ There was so little difference between thinking about it and letting it happen. He felt himself go so heavy at the edges, ink in the water, blood like lead, skin like old tanned leather.  _

_ He could feel the shards in his back growing somehow, slowly cutting into his flesh millimeter by agonizing millimeter, and he had no way of getting them out. And his heart, beating erratically in his chest, as if something was gripping it, pain spreading across his sternum. _

_ And all the spirits, so lost and confused and hurting, clamoring for help, for relief, for someone to remember them and carry their stories. Hungry for the life he still carried within himself. He knew that if they got too close, it would kill him.  _

_ But then he felt a surge of impossible power coursing through him, going nowhere at all, like an electric jolt - making things worse if that was possible.  _

_ He had opened his eyes. _

  
  


_ Lucas. _

  
  


_ What was he doing here ? It was impossible. He had thought he was delirious and that his mind was making up images like the raccoon. But...no, it was him, saying things about forgiveness Eliott's own mind would never have come up with.  _

_ It was absurd, and terrifying. Lucas's lovely energy, so bright, surrounded by all that hungry darkness. It was wrong. He needed to get himself out of there before it contaminated him. Before Eliott contaminated him. _

_ If Lucas got swallowed by the dark, everything would have been in vain.  _

_ Eliott tried to warn him, to make him understand. But it was useless. Lucas was always so fucking stubbornly optimistic, and it would kill him. _

_ "Lucas," was his last word, and he tried to make it everything at once - an apology, a warning, a declaration of eternal love.  _

_ Then the darkness pulled him under, and he felt his heart contract one last time and go still. _

  
  
  
  
  


LUCAS __

  
  
  


The young woman is otherworldly beautiful, even he can tell. She has abundant, dark curly hair falling over her shoulders, golden skin, and wide brown doe eyes. Her features are delicate, her nose straight and regal like an ancient statue, her cheeks are flushed blossom pink, and her lips are full and red. She is wearing a simple, white chiton dress, and her feet are bare. In her hair are nestled hundreds of tiny little white flowers.

  
  
  


Persephone. 

  
  
  


She stands at the back of the temple, in front of an opening he just now notices. One of her hands is stretched out, as if inviting him to join her. 

  
  


Still in shock, he stands up, vacillating, letting go of Eliott. He doesn't want to, but he can feel the source of life behind her. His own energy is completely depleted, and still Eliott lies lifeless. He needs some sort of a miracle now, and she is the only hope he can now see.

  
  


She stares at him as he approaches, without blinking, and suddenly, he feels extremely embarrassed. This is the face of a Goddess he is looking at now, he is sure - not any of her incarnations but the one she wore when she was still walking the Earth. She looks young, younger than him, but her eyes are impossibly old. Delicate, but not docile in any way. 

"'M Sorry," he mumbles as he nears her, averting his eyes.

"For what ?" Her voice echoes in the room, clear as a bell.

"For, uh. Sullying your reputation and all that."

She scoffs, in a very un-goddess-like manner. 

"Well, it's not as if it ever was right in the first place." 

Lucas stares at her, dumbfounded. 

"What," she beats her eyelashes exaggeratedly, "did you really believe in that whole meek little flower goddess thing ?" 

She sounds like...well, like him. 

"I've lived in your head for the past ten years, Lucas. I know what you think of me. That was more hurtful than any of your actions, which were, frankly, quite entertaining. As were the Fates's reactions. Those jumped up bitter little...but I guess that's what happens when any human clings on to their Godhood for too long."

"They…"

"Yes, they are just humans, who were chosen as incarnations like the rest of you, except they found a way to cling on to life somehow, and now after centuries, there's barely anything left of the original godly essence. They have worn the Fates down to the threads. We thought that Gods could never die, and yet...but you could have learned that way earlier if you'd bothered to ask me," she says ruefully.

"I didn't know I could."

She sighs. "Yes, you have been quite purposefully undereducated. But, well -" 

"Sorry, I don't mean to disrespect you, and this is very interesting, but the man I love is dying. Can you help me, or not ?" He can't help but asking, his thoughts drawn back to Eliott despite the shock of what he has just learned.

"Don't worry. Time flows differently here. He is not yet beyond all help. You see, many here do not want him dead. But he is weak, wounded, and beset by a loathsome curse. He could yet choose to give up, and then we would be powerless. And you, you have a choice to make."

Relied floods him. There is still a way to help Eliott. That's all that matters.

"Alright." 

She looks at him gravely, then, and turns away, disappearing into the doorway behind her. He follows, throwing a last worried glance in Eliott's direction. Nothing has changed but at least he is still protected by the circle of blue flames.

  
  


She walks through a corridor that turns into a roofed bridge, over the chasm beyond the castle, to a platform in the cliffside.

  
  


Lucas's heart almost stops beating when he sees.

  
  


There is a tree there. Small, gnarled, black bark and grey leaves, it looks barely alive. But hanging from its branches, glowing a deep and rich red, fruits are hanging. Round, with those little crowns at their extremities, vestigial flower remains. 

  
  
  


Pomegranates.

  
  
  
  


ELIOTT 

  
  
  


_ He blinks. _

  
  


_ He finds himself on a hill. The sky is grey with the faintest light of very early morning. The place is familiar, and he can recognize the may thorn bushes and further atop the hill, a circle of stones.  _

_ In front of him, his mother's back, clad in the embroidered coat she always wore. _

  
  


_ This is one of his memories.  _

  
  


_ He remembers the day very well. It was the day after he turned eighteen. _

  
  


_ He was born a few minutes before midnight, and so him being picked as Hades was still very fresh. They had been staying in a farm with people they were helping with a cow fertility problem, and he had been getting ready for bed, brushing his teeth, when it had happened. He'd gotten a blinding headache, and seen flashes of symbols - owls, snakes, caves, skulls, piles of gold, freshly overturned earth, open graves - and then felt something from within him bursting open. And he'd known, somehow, exactly what he now was, the power waiting for him to grasp it with full hands.  _

  
  


_ But he had recoiled from it in fear. It was too much.  _

_ He'd gone to his mother. When he told her, her face had gone utterly pale and still. She hadn't said anything, just put her hand on his head, until he had glowed for a few seconds.  _

_ "This should do it for now. Pack your things. We're leaving." _

_ She had led him into the dark, bewildered. He knew better than to ask questions, though. _

_ They had walked for hours, until the sky started to lighten. He was so tired. He wanted to stop, wanted to ask what was going on. He'd never considered the possibility of being a god. And Hades, Lord of the Underworld ? It sounded so ill-fitted to him, so impossible. The power didn't feel wrong, but… _

  
  


_ Finally they had arrived at the top and she stopped. This was one of the main places of power in the region, she told him. _

_ Then she explained. He wouldn't make a good Hades, she said. He was too weak, his brain was wrong, he was too much of a poet. She always said poet as if it was an insult. Another word for wishy-washy, useless, sentimental.  _

  
  


_ But, she said, there is a way we can hide you if we act quick. So please step into the circle and we can begin.  _

_ Back then, when this had actually happened, he had obeyed, still in shock and used to doing whatever his mother wanted. _

  
  


_ But now, he knows that he is in a memory. So instead of stepping forward, he asks, _

  
  


_ "Why ? Why did you want me to hide so badly ?" _

_ The world around him freezes and wobbles, as if disturbed by this change of events. So does his mother's face, but then she turns towards him, her eyes full of an expression he can't define. _

_ "Because, I couldn't let them have you, too." _

_ "What ?" _

_ "They took your father from me already. When I was pregnant with you for three months, they turned him into a God." _

_ Eliott knows his mother got him when she was very young and she had to leave her village because of the ensuing disapproval. But he has always imagined his father was some shadowy figure, probably older and married, adding to the social ostracization. But this is… _

_ "Who ?"  _

_ "No one important. A minor god of a local spring. But from then on, all he was talking about was how to care for that fucking spring and the people that came to it to be healed, getting all worked up about touching old people's bunions or whatever. It was disgusting." _

_ Eliott frowns. That is awful, and yet… _

_ "Being a god doesn't force you to do anything. He was probably just freaking out and looking for an excuse to bail on you. I'm sorry, but -" _

_ "No, that's not true. I know the Fates did it to punish me, because my spells were too powerful and I did not bow to the gods." _

_ Eliott thinks about Ananke, and her struggle with the Fates. It's possible that rebellious streak was exactly why she chose Eliott. And yet…the idea grates on him. He wants to believe, suddenly, that he wasn't chosen because of his mother's hangups, but because of something within himself that could withstand that pressure. And because of Lucas - because Ananke thought they would fit.  _

_ "No, you don't know. Because you have never been chosen by the gods. And this isn't about you. This is my story. You had no right to take it from me before I could figure anything out." _

_ She scoffs. "Well, it's not like you protested, didn't you ! It's not my fault you had no spine." _

  
  


_ "I trusted you. But all along all you cared about was one-upping the Fates." _

  
  


_ "And look at you, you walked right into their claws. Let them mark you like the weakling you are. Now you will have to bow to them like a little puppet." _

  
  


_ "No. I won't. I will write my own story."  _

  
  


_ She looks into the distance, then back at him with a strange impression, mixed with fear and confusion. _

  
  


_ "Yes. Maybe you will." _

  
  


_ That's when his head splits. Or at least, that is what it feels like. The pain blinds him. At that instant, he remembers the life of everyone who ever set foot in the afterlife.  _

_ It's too late to run, too late for an easy death. He waits for his mind to tear itself up from the pressure.  _

_ It doesn't. Instead...he feels much like watching the night sky. The infinity of stars makes him dizzy but not in a bad way. Not like a secret that is too much to handle, but like something self evident he has always been seeing and didn't have the knowledge to contextualize. They have always been with him, in a way. And they don't want him dead. They want to dwell in the warmth of his life and rejoice in the halls of his presence, finally a Hades they don't have to fear, who brings with him tenderness and patience in the dark. _

_ In that instant, it strikes him how utterly good he could be at this.  _

_ But it's his heart that isn't coming along, refusing to pump, lying in his chest like a waterlogged animal corpse. As if strangled by a strange toxin. That's what's killing him, he realizes, not the ghosts, not the glass in his back. _

_ All this new knowledge, but this, he still doesn't understand. _

  
  
  


LUCAS 

  
  
  


Lucas stares at his tutelar Goddess.

  
  
  


"If you want to wield power in this place, you must tie yourself to it." She says. Her face has gone cold all of a sudden, hieratic like stone. 

  
  


A rush of old fear passes over him. He knows what this means. If he eats from the pomegranate, he will be forced to spend half the year here for the rest of his life. 

  
  


But then, in that case, Eliott would be stuck here, too, right ? And he can't imagine having to stay at his side be any sort of a bad thing.

  
  


He takes a step forward and then another one, until he is standing in front of the tree and the fruits are within arm's reach.

But something paralyzes him. It's his choice, for sure, but how can he refuse with everything he has to lose ? It's not fucking fair that his arm is being twisted like this, and the selfish part of him feels like a butterfly caught in a net, trashing with all its might.

  
  


"What do you live for, Lucas Lallemant ?" Persephone asks. Her voice is a lot deeper, and suddenly he can see her skull below her translucent skin, and little blue flames dancing in her eyes. 

  
  


What...what is that supposed to mean ? He racks his brain for a suitable answer in a panic. Is this some sort of magical riddle he is supposed to give the right answer to, otherwise he can't go on ? 

Eliott, is the first answer his brain comes up with but he knows that is neither entirely true nor very healthy. He loves Eliott, and he is the reason why Lucas is here, but he won't live  _ for _ him. That wouldn't be good, to put so much weight on one person. 

Then what ? 

Oh, but he has always been bad at it, truth be told. Most of the time he got away with living as a robot, without needs or joy in his heart, solely focused on performance. Then he would catch up by living greedily for brief flashes of time, burning the candle at both ends, parties and alcohol and drugs and sex and loud music, indulging in excess until the need would go numb. He has never been good at actually enjoying life. And his motivations were just vanity trophy prizes, feeding his ego but never anything else for long.

  
  


He wants something else. But won't that sound hollow when he has had so little time to try ?

"I want things to change," he says, voice hoarse to his own ears. "I want a chance to make my own life truly mine, to step away from fear and...I want to be free. And make it so that other people can be, too. That they don't have to fear their own power like I feared mine, or fit into those cages. I want to...I want to learn how to give and to help instead of seeing life as a constant fight. I feel I have so much to give and I have given so little of it because I thought if I did they would eat me alive." He shivers. He's never said that to anyone, ever. "I want to be a better friend, I want to mean something to people, I want...I want to let more people in. I want to be a real person." 

Persephone doesn't blink or look away from him for one second, and the weight of her gaze on him goes from intimidating to encouraging. He knows that his words are doing something to him and he doesn't stop.

"I want to break the stranglehold that Zeus and the Fates have on my city. I want to flush out the bigots and all those who feed on our divisions. I want it to become a place of real promise and equality. I want to spend my time and my powers on something that will make people's lives better. I want to become someone my mother would have been proud of. I want to...gods, I want my life to be beautiful, and I don't want to feel sorry for it. I want to create...space for others to be open and creative and generous and fearless. I want to grow flowers for every single person who asks for it. And I...I want a chance to love, truly and openly. I want to give Eliott the love he deserves. I want to see him happy, I want to see him thrive. And I want us to build a life together."

As he talks he feels energy rise in his throat, red and vibrant, and he blinks tears away. Fuck, he wants this so much. 

"That's what I'm living for," he finishes, voice suddenly small and hesitant. 

The energy in his throat flickers and vanishes. 

The pomegranates start shining in the dark, now outright emanating light, low and pulsing. He knows that is where his energy went, and if he were to walk away, he would never find the will to live again. 

  
  


This is a dedication.

  
  


"Throughout my many lives, I am never born with power," Persephone says, her voice echoing into the depths. "I always find it, and lose it, and find it again, through transformation and struggle. I was many things before I was a stolen bride. I belonged to many people before I belonged to those whose Gods you worship. I was a wild thing when ice covered the earth. I was the temperamental return of frost and the desperation of the end of winter. I was a mother of darkness who came to the surface out of curiosity, got drunk on the beauty of flowers and my own powers, forgot my own name, and when I came back out of love, it was not foreign to me for long." 

Her voice is like an ancient incantation, rising goosebumps along his skin.

_ " _ I am the crown of maturity, and my kingdom is at the gates of the transformation of the soul. My husband brings peace and solace, I bring truth. I am the destroyer of illusion, I am the beloved heartbeat, pulsing the blood onwards. Nothing ever dies, but only changes form, and I chase it through. I am the first push of spring that breaks the ice and calls trees to bud and I am the chaos of fall and the ecstatic breaking into seed and the abandon of violent decay. Under my touch, everything changes."

Her words break and rebuild something deep inside him. Ever since he got his powers he thought that there was something wrong with him, that he was not a good Persephone - but he never had the full picture in the first place. 

"And you," she says, smiling and blinking for the first time, her expression suddenly full of pride, "you will be such a beautiful chapter of my legacy."

  
  


Lucas feels tears fall from his eyes. This is a part of himself he has hated for so long, for being too needy, too unstable, too demanding, too hungry, too chaotic - always too much. 

And now for the first time he can see fully how complex and beautiful it is. The power sings to him, and it is like coming home.

  
  
  


And he reaches forward.

  
  


It's a difficult choice. Life is never easy, after all. It is full of fucking struggle. But he's doing his best. And yeah - he doesn't like this place or the idea of being tied to it. But he believes in Eliott's and his own ability to change it. To change the rules if they have to. 

  
  


He closes his hand around the nearest fruit and pulls. It comes easy, as if it was waiting all along.

The pomegranate is heavy and ripe in his palm. There is no time to waste. He digs his fingers in, and breaks through the skin, pulling it open, revealing the glistening insides. Clusters of seeds like rubies, their core glowing pink-red in the night. 

He doesn't see the instruments of his captivity anymore. But a way to commit to his own potential, his own nature. He was always a creature of the dark, dark cold and broken home, dark lonely evenings selling flowers on the side of the road, dark meaningless lonely nights. And the answer is now nestled inside his palms. He wants to follow the need to its end, he wants kinship with the world, he wants to do what is necessary. He wants to own his own power, and this legacy. He wants to devote himself to life inside and out. He wants to take all the risks.

"Yes," Persephone whispers. She's been where he is. So many dangerous choices taken, some bad and some good. But always enlightening. Biting into life with sharp teeth, claiming her place at the crossroads between winter and spring, life and death, today and tomorrow. 

He bites into the fruit. Not bothering to separate the grains, teeth breaking the flesh apart and taking a full chunk into his mouth. Flavor bursts onto his tongue, tangy-sweet and intoxicating, and so does pure, raw life energy. He swallows and feels it wash through his body. 

He tears through the fruit like a feral animal devouring his prey, giving little thought to swallowing seeds or pith, and when he is done he drops the rind to the ground and getting another, filling himself up. He eats messily, juice dripping down his chin, paying attention only to the prodigious flow of energy stirring inside him. 

Persephone's eyes burn with greedy joy, and she smiles with sharp teeth uncovered, looking less and less human by the second. Lucas feels wild, unhinged, his heart thumping so loudly in his chest he can hear it.

He eats five pomegranates, before he gets to a sense of having had enough, vacillating with the charge of power. 

Persephone steps forward and plucks more fruits, stacking them in Lucas's arms. 

"You will need reserves." Then she kisses his forehead. "You are ready. Go. And remember, I am with you always."

Lucas nods, groggy, and turns to walk back, arms full of fruit and heart full of purpose. 

  
  


…

  
  


When he gets back to the courtyard, panic cuts through the slight euphoria of the moment. He is alone again, and Eliott is still on the brink of death. 

He steps forward and puts the remaining pomegranates down onto the ground, then takes a deep breath. 

Magic wells up in him - but it's absolutely incomparable to before. He might as well have been a bull in a china-shop, mindlessly throwing energy around in desperation without understanding what needed to be done.

No, the magic welling at his fingertips is completely different. It's...self aware, intelligent. Precise. Brimming with knowledge just waiting to be tapped into. 

He kneels down and sends out a first wave of magic, delicately, to wash over Eliott's body, trying to figure out what is wrong - as a demand for connection rather than a pure jolt of power. 

_ Something _ welcomes him in. So Eliott isn't dead, he is just...in a stasis. For now. But the response he gets is very faint, which is scary as hell. 

He centers himself. He can't let his emotions overwhelm him this time.

The shards stuck in Eliott's back are not the main problem, even though they appear to be growing in size. So they need to come out as soon as possible. But the block lies elsewhere. The deeper into the connection he goes, he can feel that on the other side, there is something else - beyond Eliott, something so much bigger and alien. Is that the darkness he was talking about ? The Underworld ? 

It's putting a strain on Eliott but at the same time it's...bolstering him ? Then what the hell is the problem ? 

  
  


The answer comes to him very simply, and from experience, because he recognizes it. Something is wrong with Eliott's heart. Strangely, he is a victim of the same curse as Lucas. 

So in the end, all it comes down to is flooding those shackles with all the love and determination he can muster, until slowly they start to relent.

He lets his energy flow, warm and red and full of life. On the other side, so does the darkness.

But Eliott's heart is still silent. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


ELIOTT 

  
  
  


_ Eliott is in limbo. Heart without a beat, blood dripping out, and yet a new warmth is being diffused into his body from outside. Something is trying to strangle his life force ; something else makes him hang on. Between the two, he is stuck.  _

_ He sinks, deeper and deeper into his own newly anointed mind, into the memory of the Underworld.  _

_ He finds himself standing on a mountaintop, staring into the distance. Beneath him, he can see rolling hills and lush forest - almost no sign of human activity except for a few small clearings here and there. Beyond that, the sea, aquamarine blue and radiant. This world is newer, less transformed by the human touch.  _

_ He turns his head and sees a man, standing a few meters ahead close to the edge on his left. Bushy brown hair, a well trimmed beard, broad shoulders, dark eyes and tanned skin. His face bears an expression of deep sorrow as he looks into the distance. _

  
  


_ Eliott steps closer. _

  
  


_ "Hello ? Are you alright ?"  _

  
  


_ The man startles and when he sees Eliott, his expression closes off. _

  
  


_ "You shouldn't be here. This place is off limits." _

  
  


_ "I don't...where are we ?" _

  
  


_ The man scoffs.  _

  
  


_ "Mount Olympus, of course."  _

  
  


_ What the...this is new. Eliott definitely doesn't have a memory of this place. But this man...there is something familiar about him. His voice, especially.  _

  
  


_ "Hades ?" _

  
  


_ The man shakes his head. _

  
  


_ "No. I am not. I will not be. I refuse." His voice is shaking with the effort of denial. _

  
  


_ Eliott frowns, confused. Is this another godly incarnation who refused the call ?  _

  
  


_ The sound of lightning rumbles in the distance, although the sky is perfectly clear. _

  
  


...

_ His vision darkens, shifts again. Now they are standing on the edge of a chasm into the Earth.  _ _ The man he saw earlier is there, but he has been wrapped in chains. Four stoic faced armed guards are framing him.  _

_ On the other side of the hole in the ground, a group of people are standing. Except Eliott can tell, somehow, that they are not people.  _

_ The tallest of them, the one who stands at the front, clearly the leader, resembles almost exactly the man in chains - except he is more in every regard - taller, broader, more muscular, his features sharper, his presence commanding more charisma. It's as if the other man was just a watered down copy of the first one.  _

  
  


_ "Enough of your dithering," the leader says, his voice deep and booming like thunder. "You have no life or will of your own to claim. I created you for this purpose. You will go down into the depths and tame the creature that dwells there, and claim her power and that of her realm for us." _

_ Eliott can feel the fear of the man in chains. A few days ago he was still the king of the gods, the most powerful being on Earth, creating and shaping the world. But then he woke up and was told that no, he was just a pale double, a puppet made for a loathsome purpose.  _

_ "I am Zeus," the double says, his voice shaking. _

_ "You will be Zeus Aidonaeus, the hidden one. You are but a reflection of me, and you will do my bidding. Go into the Underworld, and make the Destroyer fall under your influence. Do this, and I will reward you by absorbing you back into the fold. Everything will be as it was." _

_ The double looks down at the hole in the earth. He is scared of what dwells there. But he would do about anything to go back to the way things were.  _

_ Eliott looks on in horror. Aidonaeus is one of Hades' oldest names. What does this even mean ? _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ … _

  
  


_ Eliott shivers, and the vision shifts again. He is getting weaker, colder all the time. Whatever this collection of memories has as a purpose, he knows that if they don't come to a point soon… _

  
  


_ Well.  _

  
  


_ This time everything is dark. _

  
  


_ Aidonaeus stays silent for a long time, but Eliott knows he is cursing his fate. And afraid, too, of the unfamiliar world around him. He is still, for now, a creature of the sky. And, trapped under the earth, he could so easily lose himself to despair. _

  
  


_ … _

  
  


_ Eliott, a far away voice cries. Part of Eliott would want to follow if it wasn't lying in his chest unresponsive. But he needs to know what happened here. He is sure of it. So he stays there in the dark.  _

  
  


_ Eventually there is noise, and a cruel laugh. _

  
  


_ Aidonaeus jumps and shivers. He used to be the most powerful of the gods but now he is just a shadow. He does not possess all of the Sky Father's countless powers. He was made weak on purpose. It makes him...quieter than he used to be.  _

  
  


_ He stands there for a long time before a sliver of light appears in his field of vision, and in it, a young woman is staring at him.  _

_ Her hair is filthy and matted, her face covered in layers of grime. Her knuckles, which with she is holding up a single candle, are bloody and bruised. In her other hand, he can see the light reflect off the blade of a white knife, made of something that looks a lot like bone. _

_ Aidonaeus raises his hands, to show that he is not a threat.  _

_ "You are alive. What are you doing here?" Her voice is raw, as if she hadn't talked to anybody in a very long time. _

_ He swallows. He has a story ready made, but somehow it feels wrong.  _

  
  


_ "My people cast me down here," he says. It's the truth, even if not all of it.  _

  
  


_ "Mine too," she says, and she looks so sad all of a sudden that all his protective instincts flare up. "I was supposed to be a sacrifice to the beast below."  _

_ He wants to tell her that he was sent here to subjugate the beast, but he feels extremely foolish. She is obviously a survivor, while he looks like a pampered prince with his richly dyed tunic and fine cloak.  _

_ Instead he says, "Maybe we can help each other."  _

  
  


_ … _

  
  


_ The scene flickers and shifts once more. Now Eliott can distinguish the entrance of a cave lit from the inside by dozens of candles. He walks closer. Inside, Aidonaeus and the young woman have made camp. It is very basic- candles, some weapons, a small fire pit, two piles of furs serving as beds.  _

_ They have been living together for a while. It is a purely pragmatic arrangement. Before she met him, she told him, she could barely sleep, jostling awake at every sound announcing a potential threat, needing to stay alert always. She was exhausted. But now they take turns keeping watch as the other sleeps.  _

_ He trusts her now. He was very weary at first. She had a weapon and he didn't, and she looked, well...unhinged. Very close to feral. He almost felt like her prisoner.  _

_ But then the creatures had attacked. Strange chimeras that he had mistaken for dreams and hallucinations until one of them, a serpent with the head and claws of an eagle, had torn at his arm, opening a gash in his flesh. This was the first time in his life he knew pain, and he almost passed out as she drove the beasts away.  _

_ She had watched over him while the fever took him. He had felt so weak. So human. He had cursed Zeus' name for sending him to do his dirty work without any of his strengths.  _

_ She could have left him behind for the creatures to devour. He was a burden to her. But she did not. She roasted the serpent's flesh over a little fire, fed him, cleaned his wounds, and kept the rest of the monsters away. _ _ When he had finally recovered, he had asked why and she had said, so you'll have a chance to do the same. And he had asked what he could do to repay her.  _

  
  


_ "Tell me a story," she had asked.  _

  
  


_ But he only knew the endless revelry of Mount Olympus, and those tales were not suitable for company such as this one. So he had kept silent and eventually she had turned away, and he had felt the burden of disappointment and shame ever since.  _

_ Now she is sleeping and he is keeping guard.  _

_ Then, on the edge of their cave, he sees a pale face flicker into view, and shivers. It is not alive anymore, that much is clear. His instinctive reaction is repulsion. Gods interacting with the human dead is anathema. They keep away from the humans in general, those frail and changeable creatures, only accepting their worship when it is pure and refined. The dead are too far beneath them, and they carry miasma that would taint their godliness.  _

  
  


_ But Olympus is a long way off now.  _

  
  


_ So he gets up and walks to the ghost. It looks at him, uncomprehending, as if not used anymore to being noticed. It is an old woman, he can see now, and as he sits down next to her, he can feel her start to leech his warmth and life energy. He shivers. He wants to get up, back to the fire, and his companion who is always so strong and lively. But he doesn't. Instead he asks, "Will you tell me about your life ?"  _

_ The woman nods. Her voice is barely a whisper, and Aidonaeus has to strain himself to catch her words. Her story is one of hardship, born to a family of farmers, married young, lost her first four children to sickness. But amidst the tale of backbreaking labor and the constant fear of drought, plague, storms and bandits, there had been real happiness. She had not married out of love and yet her husband was a kind and honest man, and they had fallen for each other at the pace of a meandering river, quiet on the surface but strong and fast underneath. When she lost the fourth child, he could have declared her cursed and cast her out, and taken another more fertile wife, but he did not. Instead, he had held her as she cried, and brought her a few days old little kitten the neighbor had found in his granary, abandoned by its mother. She had put all her efforts into nurturing the little creature, carrying it against her chest for warmth and feeding it goat milk. It had lightened the weight of grief and two years later, when their firstborn son would sleep in his cot, the cat would curl around him and keep watch.  _

_ She tells him many more stories, about the taste of figs in the summer, about the terrifying years when blight took their crops and the meager winters that followed, about braiding flowers in her daughter's hair, and giving her a kitten of her own when she married. About the terrible day when a roving band of pilagers had come to the farm while she was out in the woods plucking berries, and had killed her husband and her second son. About how the grief had almost killed her that time around, how she had moved in with her eldest son and his wife and how small her life had felt from then on, but how she had liked being a doting grandmother.  _

_ Aidonaeus listens to it all and marvels. How harsh human lives are, and how resilient are those who make it through so much loss by focusing on the little wonders of existence. And by being so eager to find other beings to care for.  _

_ As a god, he never wanted for anything, ambrosia and nectar always flowing, his days easy and golden. He pitied humans and their miserable, wretched, short lives. But now he cannot help but admire them, after having spent so long in the darkness and felt keenly the prick of fear, hunger, and injury.  _

_ When his companion wakes, he says to her that he has remembered a story. He tells her about the old woman as if she were a traveler he met on the road once, and her eyes light up.  _

_ When he tells her about the drowsy antics of the kitten chasing ducks three times his size through the farm, she laughs, bright and airy, and he feels his heart become impossibly wide in his chest.  _

  
  


_ He has never felt so far away from being Zeus, and he does not regret it.  _

  
  


_ … _

  
  


_ After that, more spirits of the dead come to him. She does not see them, only shivers and complains about the cold. At first he listens to their stories while she sleeps, but eventually, he tells her the truth. She looks at him with grave eyes, and nods. Then she confides in him that she does not remember her previous life in the land above, but that the stories make her feel more alive than she has in a long time.  _

  
  


_ The stories create a new closeness between them. They have become good at hunting monsters and gathering food together, but this is new. She smiles more often. They share jokes. She asks him questions for the dead. He discovers a new side of her - she is clever, inquisitive, sweetly teasing. More and more, he feels shy around her, and full of awe.  _

_ One evening, he tells her the story of two shepherds who went up the mountains and found love with each other, only to be faced with the condemnation of their village as they came back down. _

_ "I think that's wrong." She says. "Love takes many forms. It's like light on water. It's only when you try to cage it that it dies." _

_ He wonders how she knows that, if she doesn't remember her old life.  _

_ She yawns, and then slowly and deliberately lowers her head so it rests on his shoulder. In a moment, all his world is turned upside down. He feels his heart thump erratically in his chest, his palms go sweaty, his mind blanks. It is terrifying. _

_ It's also the best thing he has ever felt in his long, long life.  _

_ Zeus never knew love. Of that he is certain. He took a goddess wife, as per custom, but there was never any affection between them. For the rest, he had conquests, pretty young things that caught his eye, who became an extension of his virile prowess.  _

  
  


_ But nothing like love, because love requires vulnerability.  _

_ As his companion falls asleep, leaning on him, the warmth of her body more comforting than the fire, he can't help but feel that he got the better end of the stick, no matter how lost he is. _

  
  


_ … _

  
  


_ He knows that he is changing. He requires less food and sleep. He feels stronger, as if he is developing his own reserves of power. But it isn't only physical. _

_ Maybe it's the choices he is making. Maybe it's this place, or his constant communication with the dead and the relaying of their stories. Maybe it's her, and the budding feelings in his chest. Maybe it's the darkness. Maybe... it's all of it at once. But whatever the reason, the memory of his previous existence as an Olympian becomes more and more surreal and separate from him. It's as if he is developing his own personality, free from Zeus' influence.  _

_ He knows he is patient, and he wants to be kind, like Zeus never was. He doesn't mind the darkness all that much now that he is used to it. He doesn't pity humans, and he does not feel sullied by the presence of the dead. He likes listening to their stories, and bringing them back to life with added fervor, accentuating the details he knows will bring joy to his companion's eyes. He has no desire for conquest. He likes the simple things : the taste of smoke in roasted meat, the glow of the fire late at night when it is almost extinguished, the shining smoothness of some of the rocks of their cave. The faraway, haunted look that most ghosts get when they speak about love. And the expression of peace when they are finished with their stories and know, for a few moments, that they have been heard and seen and known.  _

  
  


_ And her. The little leaves and berries that she weaves into her hair, her rich and curly hair, the swiftness of her arm when she hunts, the quickness of her smile. He is entranced by her, and he wants to know her, truly know her in all possible ways.  _

_ This brings a host of complicated questions back to the surface. And so, one morning - or at least what they have decided is morning in this kingdom of eternal night, the moment when they are both awake and share the first meal - he tells her.  _

  
  


_ "I was sent here by my people to tame the beast below. To bring it back up so my people can harness its power." _

_ Her smile disappears and her eyes go sharp, and her laugh could cut through stone. She stops what she was doing for a moment, cleaning out the fire. She looks at him, hands covered in ash.  _

  
  


_ "And ? Is that still what you plan to do ?"  _

  
  


_ He stares at her.  _

  
  


_ "I don't know."  _

  
  


_ It's true. Both because he is reconsidering the purpose and the futility of the act - yet another trophy for Zeus to brag about - and because accomplishing that task would mean going back to his old world and becoming Zeus again.  _

_ He doesn't want to become Zeus again.  _

  
  


_ But still. He has heard tales of the beast, a monstrous creature with too many teeth, capable of unleashing cold fire that bends to her will. He has heard tales of the destruction the beast has wrecked on innocent villages. Wouldn't it be for the best of all for her to be tamed ?  _

  
  
  


_ So, no. He doesn't know. All he knows is he doesn't want to break their fragile balance.  _

  
  


_ Finally she relents, relaxing her body and getting up and washing her hands in the little stream at the back of their cave, apparently satisfied with his hesitation.  _

_ It's only later, as they come back from the hunt, that he realizes how strange her reaction was. If she was meant to be sacrificed to the beast, wouldn't she be relieved if it was tamed ? _

_ Maybe she is just scared for him.  _

  
  


_ … _

  
  
  


_ Life goes on. He doesn't think about his purpose here anymore.  _

  
  


_ Instead he starts to think about a way to collect the stories of the dead. There are so many of them, everyday more, and it is starting to exhaust him. One of his ideas is to start painting little memory helpers and symbols on the walls of their cave, with clay and berry juice, but it is frustratingly hard to transcribe all that complexity and feeling in a few symbols.  _

_ He is starting to see more and more ghosts when they go hunting, too, and their shape becomes more defined until one day, his companion lets out a gasp and clutches his arm, pointing at the grey woman on the path ahead.  _

_ "I can see her ! What do you think that means ?"  _

_ He can't be too sure, but…maybe this place is changing, too, along with him. _

_ "I think it gives them strength. Being remembered. Being heard." _

_ And among themselves, too, they have started talking, laughing, exchanging stories. Sitting around memories of tables and ghostly campfires, drinking from imaginary mugs of drink. They are no longer simple echoes, they have a will of their own. They are not alive, but death is starting to mean something very different to them.  _

_ The two of them walk among groups of ghosts, and greet them, and she marvels at being able to see them all. _

_ "This is amazing." She whispers, and his heart swells at the pride in his voice. "You are making this place into a home for them." _

  
  
  


_ … _

  
  
  


_ As they come home, she turns to him, and her expression is suddenly shy, and the blush on her cheeks has him stand at attention.  _

_ "Will you help me wash my hair ?" She asks.  _

  
  
  


_ Oh.  _

  
  


_ They usually give each other space and some privacy when it comes to washing, stepping to the outside of the cave for a moment. Their rhythm has become natural to the both of them, and for her to willingly break it has to be very intentional.  _

  
  


_ She goes to the back of the cave and he follows, heart in his throat.  _

  
  


_ She sits down on stone at the edge of where the stream makes a little pool, her back turned to him. He takes place behind her but realises he has no clue what to do.  _

_ She laughs softly, and then leans backwards, leaning the back of her head against his shoulder, until her hair is tickling his nose. He likes this - how comfortable she is around him now.  _

_ "I haven't thought this through, hm ? Maybe I should push you into the water."  _

_ "Um, if you want to…"  _

_ "That would be quite something, I bet. My stoic silent guardian, all dripping wet. Do you even know how to swim ?" Her tone is teasing. _

_ "Of course I do !" He said, slightly insulted. "There were lakes everywhere where I used to live. It's you I bet who would beg me to hold her hand as soon as the water would reach her knees !"  _

_ She scoffs, and then stands, stepping with both feet into the little pool, water staining the edge of her well-worn dress. She lifts her skirt up as she wades into deeper water, and then turns back, with a grin on her face. _

_ "Oh no, help. All that water, I will surely drown." It's reaching up to her mid-thighs now, and she bunches the fabric up higher, showing a tantalizing strip of skin on her legs that glows in the candle light.  _

_ He gets up almost without realizing what he is doing.  _

_ Her back hits the rock wall behind her, and she stops, throwing him a challenging look. The water is to her hips now, her tunic floating around her like the petals of a flower. _

_ He unclasps his cloak and then steps into the water in turn, and it is warmer than he thought it would be. He can't help but think she must be warming it all up somehow. He walks towards her, feeling the water push against his stride, a faint current coming from the entrails of the earth.  _

_ As he stands in front of her, suddenly, he is transported in a universe in which they are the only two beings that have ever and will ever exist. Nothing matters except the curve of her lips, the willful jut of her jaw, her eyes glistening like two bottomless pools, drawing him in.  _

_ The desire that burns within him is nothing he has ever known before.  _

  
  


_ "My hair is up there," she whispers.  _

  
  


_ He bows down and cups his hands, bringing fresh water up and pouring it over her head. He repeats the motion several times, until her curls are glistening. He moves with reverence, as if bringing an offering to an altar. _

_ She closes her eyes as beads of water fall over her face. He follows their trajectory in the dark, wishing he could be one of those drops, caught in her eyelashes curving along the edge of her cheekbone. Everything is heightened. _

__

_ The rush of the spring as it flows downwards and out of the cave, the far away howl of the wind through the caves, the murmur of the dead, the soft patter of water trickling down her hair back into the stream. So deep down, the water here must be extraordinarily pure, untouched by any human or animal contact. In a sense, these are the primal waters of the earth. He doesn’t know why it moves him so much. Maybe because it feels like rebirth.  _

  
  
  


_ Very slowly, he moves his hands to the sides and top of her head, and starts massaging her now wet curls, rubbing the water in. She sighs softly. She feels fragile under his hands suddenly, delicate. _

  
  
  


_ “I’d forgotten,” she murmurs. “What it’s like to be touched with tenderness.” _

  
  
  


_ He pauses, and then brushes her cheek with his thumb, pad of his finger brushing feather light against her skin. “I never even knew what that meant.” Before I met you, it is implied.  _

  
  
  


_ She exhales.  _

  
  
  


_ He reaches down to the bottom of the pool and brings back a fistful of mud, which serves them as soap most often. It smells clean, free of organic matter and made of volcanic silt, basaltic dust and little glittering motes of silvery mica. He works it into her hair, rubbing circles into her scalp, cleansing away the sweat and grime of their everyday routine. After a while, she looks like a clay woman between his hands, a little fertility goddess like the ancients made. _

  
  
  


_ When he is done, she lets herself sink, until her head disappears under the surface, muddy cloud above as she rinses her hair soon carried away by the current. When she rises, her hair is dark and clean again, like a dripping sea of its own. As if she were one of those dangerous deep sea nymphs that enchant men to their perdition.  _

  
  
  


_ She pushes on his shoulders, and he kneels in front of her. She washes him in a similar manner, bringing up water and mud with her gathered hands. Her fingers are so agile, brushing away what feels like the dust of centuries, molding him into something new. The cloth of her tunic is soaked now, and translucent as it presses against her body, and it makes him understand why humans want to worship. _

_ He goes all the way down into the water, and when he emerges, she has walked out of the water, back to their little camp. She wrings the humidity out of her hair, letting it drip over her hip onto the floor. She turns back to him and smiles.  _

  
  
  
  
  


_ “Well then, my ghost shepherd, are you coming ? Or are you turning into a fish ?” She smiles at him and in the flickering light of the candles, her teeth look brilliant and sharp.  _

  
  
  
  
  


_ He closes his mouth and hurries out of the water, to her side. She grabs the pin that holds her tunic in place and pulls it out. The cloth falls to the ground. _

_ This is the first time in his life he has ever felt truly blessed. _

  
  


_ … _

  
  
  


_ Eliott’s vision flickers and shifts again, pulling him away from Aidonaeus’s perspective for a brief destabilizing moment, reminding him who he is - he feels so bitterly cold now, but he needs to know, he needs to know more. _

  
  
  


_ … _

  
  


_ Aidonaeus and his now lover lay together in a pile of humid furs, their limbs still entangled, fresh bliss still running through their bodies. Next to them, the fire has died down to embers, the candles burned down to the end, and the cave has almost been given back to darkness. He feels drowsy. Whatever faint memories he has of lovemaking, it was never like this. _

_ Sleep is waiting to welcome him, but he doesn’t want to go. Not yet. _

_ He runs a hand along the curve of her spine, her waist, her lovely rounded hips, wanting to commit it all to memory, suddenly terrified it will be taken from him too soon. But as he does, he feels something under her skin, something pointy, waiting to pierce through. Like teeth, or spikes. Along her spine, her lower back, her hipbone - he runs his fingers along those ridges, heart full of terror and awe. He shivers, but doesn’t pull his hand back. _

_ He looks at her then, and her eyes are very dark, so much he cannot see her pupils any more, and her smile is sad and knowing. _

_ “Are you…are you alright ?” _

_ She nods slightly, but he realizes that wasn’t the right question to ask. _

_ “What’s…what’s your name ?” He should have asked way sooner, but something always held him back. As if he knew that would be like opening Pandora’s box, disturb their fragile peace, or at least the illusion of it. _

_ “Persephone.” She replies, voice low. _

_ Persephone. The Destroyer. _

_ His heart stops in his chest, and his breath stops. She was the beast he was sent to defeat all along. _

_ But deep down, he knows…he’s always known. Or suspected, at least, that it was all too good to be true, her knowing how to find him in the dark, to help him survive… _

_ She rolls closer, until her face is hidden in the crook of his neck. Like this, she could easily tear out his throat with her teeth. _

_ “Do you still want to tame me ?” She whispers instead, her tone full of dark humor. _

_ “No.” He searches his heart, and he finds it is true. He is not saying that only to survive. He says it because…because that’s just not who he is. “Why did you…” He swallows, his throat dry, pulse beating at his temple. “Why did you not tell me ?” She could have killed him so many times, where he was at her mercy. _

_ “Because,” she replies, looking at him again, “I wanted to see what you would do.” _

_ So it was a test. _

_ “I heard about what you did. Above. People are terrified of you.” _

_ “Are they ? Then why are you not running ?” _

_ He doesn’t have a clear answer. He is terrified. By all intents and purposes, he should do everything in his might to run, to fight her off, to get away. But he can’t bring himself to. He remembers the warmth of her body against his, her soft sounds of pleasure, her laughter. _

_ She’s cast some wicked spell on him, he thinks in a brief moment of despair. But he knows that isn’t right. He let himself fall for her willingly, every step of the way. _

_ “I don’t want to run from you,” he says, and reaches out with a trembling hand, cupping her face. “I love you.” _

_ “Really ?” She growls. _

_ Her face is shifting under his touch, scales forming over her skin, teeth piercing through. Shifting and transforming, slowly turning into a thing of nightmares, worse than all the creatures they hunted together. An impossibility, multiple tongues like snakes, a second jaw full of teeth growing out of her mouth, her eyes growing yellow and her pupils bursting into a thousand little pinprick eyes. He shivers in revulsion and fear, thinking that maybe she is going to eat him alive, but he doesn’t move, not even when her spikes pierce through his hand and he whimpers in pain. _

_ “I love you,” he repeats. “My blessed darkness.” _

  
  


_ He means it, he still means it. Maybe he is an utter fool but he does. She’s the reason he came to this place, the reason he found himself, the reason he discovered what it was like to be a changeable creature, who knows fear and pain and tenderness and love. He didn’t tame her, she tamed him. Or maybe the very opposite of that. She made him wild. Free. _

_ She blinks with all of her monstrous eyes, and a raucous sound rises from her chest, and it takes him a while to realise that she is laughing. He feels terrible all of a sudden, but then she is pulling his hand free of her face, and her body shakes, and then her features slowly go back to the way they were. _

_ When she looks at him, she looks normal again - well, save for a few details. Her eyes are a bit too wide, and her eyebrows are still made of little spikes, and he is pretty sure that there is more than one tongue in her mouth. But her smile - her smile is kind, and…happy ? _

_ “You are very reckless, aren’t you ?” _

_ He shrugs. He can’t deny that. _

_ “You are not what I think you would be like, brother of Zeus. And yes…I know who you are. I’ve known all along.” She sighs. “I have been down here for a long time. I used to be worshipped as a living goddess by the people who used to live on the land above. I would reincarnate, time and time again, under a different skin. I was a goddess of the earth, and of the seasons. During the winter, I would dwell here, in the dark, and I was terrible, a goddess of death and destruction they had to beg not to destroy their fragile lives. And in the spring, I would rise again, and I would change. I would become soft, and merciful, a goddess of the tender flowers, and dwell among the humans and take men and women as lovers and bless their harvests. But…one day, invaders came, and they butchered my people. Not your people, this was a long time ago, and yet to me it still feels like yesterday." _

_ "I'm sorry," he whispers. He cannot begin to imagine what that must be like.  _

_ "So…I took refuge in the dark. I forgot the flowers, and the kindness, and I let myself become entirely a beast. Then, your people came here, with their new gods. I became aware of their plans to tame me.” She traces the outline of his jaw with the back of her finger. “When I first heard you come down here, I wanted to kill you for daring to trespass here. But when I saw you, I changed my mind. It had been so long since…” she sighs. “since I just saw anyone who could be my equal. I guess I haven’t entirely forgotten the flowers.”But you're the one that reminded me. _

_ She lays herself back on the furs, then, looking at the ceiling. “You made me remember what it was like, to feel…almost human. I missed it. I don’t regret letting you live, or…this. Even if maybe it was a stupid choice…” _

_ “It’s not.” He rushes over himself in a hurry to reassure her. “Zeus created me with his mission, he made me as this copy of him, but…I am not anymore. I am my own person. I do not wish to do you harm, or seek to gain control over you in any way. ” _

_ “I believe you,” she says, her eyes liquid. Then, in one fluid motion, she is on him again, and he welcomes her with open arms. Her burning kiss is like a brand that seals their newfound understanding. They know each other now, know that they have every reason to be enemies. _

_ And yet, by choice, they are very much not. _

  
  


_ … _

  
  
  
  


_ After that, they barely leave each other’s arms for a long time. The truth has stoked a new fire between them, and with every caress he feels the mantle of Zeus fall more and more to shreds until he knows for certain that his previous memories were only a sham, implanted in him by someone else to make him obedient, and that they do not define him in any way whatsoever.  _

  
  
  


_ When they slowly emerge and fall back into their routine, it too has changed. She doesn’t go to much efforts to hide her monstrousness, especially when they hunt. Sometimes her skin is covered in scales, her hands turn into claws, sometimes she grows more appendages than she should have - and he cannot manage to find her any less beautiful. She is strange, but she is a force of nature, and he knows now he will never not be captivated by her. _

  
  
  


_ And he is less and less scared of the dark - partly because he knows she is the scariest thing down here, and partly because it has started to feel like home.  _

  
  
  


_ The dead still come to him, and not always to tell him stories, but also because they simply seem to like being around him. They warn him about threats, they watch over them, they lead him to find buried treasure, and slowly their cave is outfitted like a palace, with old furniture engraved in gold. He finds a beautiful crown for his love, made of delicate gold filligree and rubies of the richest red, and a simpler one for himself, made of iron. She finds it very funny, the idea that they are the king and queen of his place. She climbs on his lap and calls it her throne, and he banishes all the ghosts with a sign of his hand so they may have some privacy.  _

  
  
  
  
  


_ … _

  
  
  
  
  


_ One day she tells him she needs to run an errand, but she will be back. He waits for her by the fire, with baited breath, feeling very much as if his heart is walking outside of his body.  _

  
  


_ She comes back, face streaked in mud and clothes torn as if she had to crawl though some ungodly tunnel, and proudly presents him with the product of her search. A fruit, round and red, with a little crown at the end, that she places into his palm.  _

  
  
  


_ She brushes her hair away from her face. “The ghosts helped me find it. I had to walk to the top of a mountain, but I found it. It’s…” She blushes. “My people used to have a custom. When …two people liked each other very much, one would give a pomegranate to the other, and if they ate it together, it would seal their union.”  _

  
  
  


_ He looks at her, dumbstruck. “Are you…are you asking me to marry you ?”  _

  
  
  


_ She grins. “Yes, I guess I am. Sorry for the lack of protocol. Do we need some sort of a sacred ritual, or -" _

  
  
  


_ Unprecedented happiness blossoms into his chest. He leaps to his feet and sweeps her up, kissing her full on the mouth. At the mouth of the cave, the ghosts break into applause.  _

  
  
  
  
  


_ … _

  
  
  
  
  


_ After that, their undead friends insist on a ceremony, and he doesn’t find it in himself to deny them - after all, he would never have won her heart without his stories. It turns into a complete mess of different cultures at different times in human histories, different ghostly instruments played at the same time. There is a ghostly banquet, and wailing serenades, and ghostly flower petals get thrown at them, and a lot more, and they laugh their way through it.  _

  
  
  


_ He remembers Zeus’s wedding, a staid and pompous affairs, most of the time dedicated to sacrifices and to praising his exploits.  _

  
  
  


_ This is so much better.  _

  
  
  


_ After running through an arch made of the emptied ribcage of a giant animal wreathed in ghostly flowers and escaped a cloud of strange mushroom pollen, they finally find themselves in their little cave again. They’ve upgraded their furs to a real bed, and they crawl into it together, rendered silent by the gravity of the moment.  _

  
  
  


_ She bursts the pomegranate open with her fingers, and looks at him.  _

  
  
  


_ “You know this is going to be for a very long time, don’t you ? We are not the dying kind.”  _

  
  
  


_ “I never liked the idea of eternity until I met you,” he replies.  _

  
  
  


_ She feeds him the first grains of the pomegranate first, and the taste explodes onto his tongue. Then he does the same for her, and they share the fruit until there is nothing left, and when they kiss, it tastes sweet and sour, and he has never felt more in love with life.  _

  
  
  


_ “My husband,” she whispers as she pushes him down onto the bed. “What wonders we will make, together.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ … _

  
  
  
  
  


_ The times that follow are happy, indecently so. But one morning, she wakes with a grave expression on her face.  _

  
  
  


_ “I dreamt of flowers,” she says.  _

  
  
  


_ A vague of dread comes over him. Flowers mean the world above. They mean scrutiny, and having to explain to the gods why he gave up on his mission. He wishes he could be all of her world like she is his.  _

  
  
  


_ But who is he, to deny her half of her nature ? _

  
  
  
  
  


_ … _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ And so, inevitably, they find himself on their way to the surface.  _

  
  
  
  
  


_ He has tried to convince himself that it will be okay. That the gods will understand and leave them alone.  _

  
  
  


_ He has tried to bargain with her, to try and make her understand. For a while, she agreed to wait. But he could see she was not doing well - restless, feverish, never sleeping anymore, always distracted and weakening by the day. He could not stand to see that happening to her.  _

  
  
  


_ And so, here they are.  _

  
  
  


_ As they climb on the same path he once decended, what feels like so many years ago, a ray of light falls on the path. He hisses as it hits his skin. He has become a creature of the darkness through and through. But she welcomes it, like a flower too long starved of the sun. His heart bleeds as he sees her slip through his fingers, but he knows he has to let her change like she needs to change. He has to trust that, in this shape too, their bond will hold true.  _

  
  
  


_ They emerge into a little clearing, dappled sunlight too bright, hurting his eyes. She lets out a gasp of delight as she sees the flowers at her feet, and as she walks through the grass, more flowers sprout where her bare feet have touched the ground.  _ _ She laughs and twirls, the warm breeze lifting her hair, the sunlight lighting up her dark eyes like fiery honey. She is not his monster queen anymore, she is something new, but she is just as wild and lively as she always was.  _

  
  
  


_ As she steps further, he feels a sense of foreboding dread invade him, wants to warn her to stay closer. She reaches the edge of the clearing and turns back to him, opening her mouth to say something,  _

  
  
  


_ But then a whisle cuts through the air, and a chain whips itself around her waist and pulls her down to the ground. She cries out in pain, the metal burning her skin.  _

  
  
  


_ “NO!” he roars, and makes a move to run towards her, but he finds himself with the point of a lance at his throat, held by a fierce soldier who is suddenly joined by an army of his companions.  _

  
  
  


_ Out of the bushes, a towering, armored figure steps into the clearing. He recognizes him immediately - Ares, the god of war, holding the magical chain that holds his beloved down. He waits for her to stir, to fight, but she stays still, her eyes wide and terrified.  _

  
  
  
  
  


_ He remembers what she once told her - that as a goddess of spring, she was soft and kind.  _

  
  
_ He wants to curse and scream. This is his fault. He should have protected her better. _

  
  
  
  
  


_ “If you move, you little traitor, I will spear you clean through.” Ares sneers at him. _

  
  


_ He wants to fight, but he knows he is no match. He’s not even sure he is a god anymore. _

  
  


_ Inevitably, he arrives - the Sky King in all his richest finery, rich dyed cloth and gilded breast plates encrusted with the finest jewels, on a chariot drawn by winged horses, accompanied by all the Olympians. _

_ He steps down, stares down at the scene, and laughs disdainfully. _

_ “Well done ! I can see you have tamed the beast.” _

_ Persephone’s eyes go wide and terrified, and she realizes what she has done. _

  
  
  


_ “Your reward is at hand, Zeus Aidonaeus. Come to me and we will be reunited as one, and her bond to you will be transferred to me. Then I will have dominion over this wicked creature and her realm of shadows, and it will be a fine hall for our fallen warriors.” _

_ Gods, how could they have been so stupid ? By letting her tie herself to him, he has made her vulnerable to the same weakness as him - but he was too lovesick to realize it.  _

_ He stares at Zeus, and feels no recognition, just revulsion. _

_ “No,” he says, his voice shaking. “She is not yours, and she will never be. And I am not either.” _

_ Zeus laughs, threateningly. “Don’t be so silly. I created you. You are nothing without me.” _

  
  


_ “I am everything without you.” _

  
  


_ “You would deny yourself an eternity of power ? All for this loathsome beast ? How weak you are to have fallen for her spell.” Zeus taunts him. _

_ “I would deny myself an eternity of anything for her,” he replies, and looks at her, trying to convey all his love through his gaze. She is crying, but she is still the most beautiful creature he has ever seen. And through her tears, she seems...proud of him. _

  
  


_ “Very well, you fool.” Zeus laughs, and raises his arms, and lightning flows. _

  
  


_ He falls to his knees. The pain as it hits is blinding, like nothing he has ever felt before. He finds himself seized by a malevolent force he knows wants to destroy him utterly, until there is nothing left of him but a pile of ashes. _

_ And then, out of nowhere, it stops. _

_ “What did you…” Zeus says. _

  
  


_ He opens his eyes. There, in the clearing, standing between him and the King of the Gods, is the ghostly outline of an old woman, shimmering and almost invisible in the sunlight - deflecting the lightning directed at him. _

_ The Gods all look on in shock. Never before have they been thwarted like this, not even by a human but the faint memory of one. _

_ He falters, falling face first into the dust. It’s too late. He is dying. He was not built to withstand this…he was never even really a god in the first place. _

  
  


_ But then he feels a thousand ghostly hands touch him, lift him up, shield him, and carry him back into the cave from which they came from. _

  
  


_ The darkness swallows him like a welcoming sea, protective, jealous. It pours itself into him, healing him, restoring his strength. All around the dead sing a chorus made of remembrance and acceptance. _

  
  


_ They love him. They have chosen him. The Underworld has chosen him. _

  
  


_ He was not a god, but now, they’re making him into one. _

  
  


_ … _

  
  
  


_ He sits on his throne in an empty palace. _

  
  


_ He is grateful that they saved him. He is. But he cannot open his heart to them like he used to ; it is cold like a grave. He cannot leave, and in the above world, the fate of his beloved Persephone is unknown to him. _

  
  


_ So he waits. _

  
  
  
  


_ … _

  
  


_ The vision flickers once again. Eliott protests - he needs to know, wants to know what happened next, what happened to Persephone in the land of the living. But he is so cold he can barely move, and the frozen Underworld around him is becoming so dim he can barely see. _

  
  


_ Then a silvery crack appears in front of him, growing into a swirl - a maelstrom of memories. A thousand more lives to explore, more stories, more knowledge. A couple of lovers, tied together by choice and by fate, reincarnating across millennia in different bodies and different hearts and different lands. Star-crossed romances, childhood sweethearts, sworn enemies killing each other, missed encounters, lasting marriages, bitter fights, breathtaking bliss. Betrayal, tragedy, happiness, pain, fear, loss, commitment, joy, peace, and everything else. _

_ He feels dizzy. If he followed the stream - he could know everything, and be forever at peace in the memory of love, real love finding its place in the universe anew every time. _

_ “Eliott !” The voice calling to him is very far away, and very faint, but he still recognizes it. _

  
  


_ He would recognize it anywhere. _

  
  


_ Lucas. _

  
  


_ He is free, he realizes, his heart no longer restricted, power flowing through his being. He was never as cursed as he thought he was, and the Underworld doesn't wish him harm. The darkness loves him. He was the one that was shaping it into such a dangerous place. And now, he realizes he wants to live beyond this realization. _

_ The wonders of the universe will wait. _

  
  


_ First, he has his own story to live.  _

  
  


_ He lets himself be pulled out, back towards the world of the living. _

  
  
  
  
  


LUCAS

  
  
  


He has been at it for hours - flooding Eliott’s system with life energy, keeping him alive, and yet each time Eliott seems to be coming back to him, his eyes moving under his eyelids, he slips away again. 

Lucas wants to scream. He’s trying everything, and still...this is the closest he’s ever come to pure madness. 

  
  


But Eliott doesn’t seem to be in pain, he realizes. And then, the shards in his back start to melt. 

  
  
  


Lucas frowns as Eliott’s hand, the one that has been dipped in silver, outstretches itself towards him, as if asking him to take it. 

  
  


Driven by pure instinct, he grabs it, and follows Eliott into the stream of memories. 

  
  


What he sees there, well...it changes his outlook on everything. But he still manages to keep a focus on Eliott’s health, and he knows that knowledge is power, but when Eliott becomes so cold and so still that almost everything stops, he knows it’s time. 

  
  
  


Miraculously, this time, Eliott listens. 

  
  


They find themselves catapulted back to their bodies and to consciousness, and then, then, wonder of wonders, Eliott’s eyes flutter open, a sliver of jewel-like color slipping into the world. 

  
  


Lucas’s heart is a riot of joy and relief. He kisses Eliott then, on his mouth and his cheeks and all over his face, caring little that his eyes are dripping tears everywhere. 

  
  


“Baby, you came back to me. You’re alive. Fuck, Eliott, I love you so much. Don’t ever do this again to me. Fuck.” 

  
  


Eliott whimpers. “Lucas.” His voice is so hoarse. “It hurts.”

  
  


“I’m sorry, baby, your back was sliced up like a vegetable julienne, don’t move, it’s going to be fine, I’ll heal you.” He wrenches himself free and walks to the other side of the marble altar, and cuts Eliott’s coat away with his mind. 

His wounds are still open, but at least they’re not bleeding. He puts his hands on each of them, very delicately, and as the power flows, they start to heal. He had no clue that this was in the realm of his abilities, but it works, flesh knitting itself together until all that is left is a bunch of dark red scars. 

“Lucas.” Eliott whispers when he is done. “Lucas.”

  
  


Lucas goes to his side, thinking he can always perfect his work later. Eliott is out of trouble and that’s what matters. 

  
  


“I’m sorry.” Eliott says. “I’m sorry.”

  
  


“It’s okay,” Lucas says. “You’ve been stupid, but so have I.” He laughs through the tears. “We’re just well matched. I forgive you.” 

Eliott tries to move, but Lucas pushes him down. “You need to rest. Please don’t move.” 

  
  
  


Thankfully, Eliott doesn’t fight him. 

  
  


“I saw something.”

  
  


“I know.” Lucas replies. “I saw it too. We had it all wrong, didn’t we ?”

  
  


“They weren’t forced to be together.” Eliott marvels. “They chose to.” 

  
  
  


“Yeah.” He says, brushing Eliott’s hair away from his forehead as tenderly as he can. “And so did we.” 

  
  


Eliott smiles at him, and it is the eighth wonder of the world, or it should be the first, and then he falls into unconsciousness, and Lucas sets to making him more comfortable.

  
  
  
  


ELIOTT 

  
  
  
  
  
  


When he wakes the second time, it’s not against hard stone, but something warm and comfortable, and the pain has receded somewhat, even though he still feels sore all over, and incredibly tired. 

He opens his eyes. He is laying on his stomach, on some sort of...organic material, and as his vision sharpens he can distinguish a thousand little vines woven together, their surface almost velvet soft. Piled on top of him, there is a layer of furs keeping him warm. As he turns his head a little, he can see the bed is under a cocoon made of bigger branches and vines. Leaves are hanging down, and flowers, dark as night, but with little balls of light nestled inside them, bathing the whole scene in a soft glow. 

Lucas must have made this. Their own little cocoon of life in the land of the dead. That's so sweet. 

He turns his head to the other side. Sitting there, watching over him, is Lucas, who smiles as he sees him move. 

  
  


“Welcome to the land of the living, Sleeping Beauty,” he says. That makes no sense.

  
  


“Aren’t we in the Underworld ?” 

  
  


Lucas laughs.

  
  


He is too tired for this. 

  
  


“Hold me,” he asks. Lucas immediately obliges, sliding in under the furs and pulling Eliott against him. 

  
  


“Take your shirt off,” Eliott demands grumpily. Lucas laughs, but does as he asks. Finally, when his head rests on Lucas’s chest, cheek pressed against Lucas’s warm skin, something torn and frayed within him heals, and he knows peace again. 

  
  


His Persephone is here, safe, with him. His Lucas doesn’t hate him. He came back for Eliott, against all odds. 

  
  


His head hurts. He feels like it’s been stuffed with millenia worth of knowledge all at once, and it’s so much to take in. 

  
  


But what he knows now is…

  
  


He spent so much of his life hating himself for being Hades, for what he thought it represented. His mother, too, fed his idea that Hades was supposed to be some sort of horrible, macabre tyrant. But the truth...the truth is so far away from that it completely turns his sense of self upside down. 

Hades was...Zeus, but he fell in love, and became a completely different god sheerly out of love for Persephone and because of the compassion he had shown to the undead. That’s just...well, incredible, and he identifies with it so deeply it could very well give him an identity crisis. Because going from hating your patron god to actually relating to him on that level and actually being proud…

Yes, he is proud. It feels a lot less like a curse to escape than a legacy he is proud to be a part of. The shift in perspective, along with what he learned from his mother’s ghost, is utterly dizzying. He still needs to know what happened to Persephone in the land of the living. He has a feeling it will prove capital later, in their fight against Zeus.

But he’ll figure it out, he thinks as he dozes off, warm and held and safe. They will figure it out. 

  
  
  


…

  
  


When he wakes once again, his throat is parched. He asks Lucas for water, who immediately slices one of the vines open, and serves him sap in the crook of a big folded leaf. 

When he is done, Lucas kisses him, and it feels like coming back to life all over again. His mouth tastes tangy, like fruit. 

He pulls away, and notices that Lucas’s chin is sticky for some reason. He grabs his jaw. 

  
  


“What did you do, Lucas ?” 

  
  


Lucas blushes, but doesn’t look away. “I ate a pomegranate.” 

  
  


Eliott swears. 

  
  


“Yeah, well, I’m not sorry. I had to get some energy to keep you alive. And besides, Persephone showed up and told me to, that it would get me my full powers. You heard the story like I did, didn’t you ? I am just as much a creature of the Underworld as you are.”

  
  


“But now, we’re…”

  
  


“I’m not sorry,” Lucas says firmly. 

  
  


“Okay.” Eliott lies back down. “We need to talk.”

  
  


“We can do it later, when you’re better.” 

  
  


“No,” Eliott insists. “No more pushing it back.”

  
  


“Okay,” Lucas says, his tone trembling slightly, and he lies down next to Eliott, also on his stomach. 

  
  


They stare at each other, both lost for words. 

  
  


Then Eliott can’t help but laugh. 

  
  


“What a fucking situation we got ourselves in, huh ?” 

  
  


“Tell me about it,” Lucas smiles. “You’re a copy of Zeus, and that’s not even the craziest thing.” 

  
  


“I am so not,” Eliott says, offended before he realizes Lucas is teasing him. 

  
  


“Yeah, and when I was topside I blew up my company, Munier’s company, and turned half the city into a jungle. Nobody got hurt though.” Lucas winces. “Well, except a dog. But mostly, it should be fine. Unless it causes the Fates to, like. Lock down the city. Ugh. Yeah, it’s going to be a complete mess when we go back up.”

“Do you think I will be able to ?” 

  
  


“Yes.” Lucas says, absolute determination in his eyes. “You saw it, Hades and Persephone were able to exit the Underworld when they were together.” 

  
  


“He wasn’t Hades yet, though.”

  
  


“I don’t care, we will find a way, I don’t care if I have to blow a hole through the fucking Earth until we land on the other side of the fucking planet or something. We’re getting out and setting those assholes to rights once and for all.” 

  
  


“Okay, Mr. Bossman.” 

  
  


Lucas laughs. It’s such a sweet sound, and he missed it so much. 

  
Seems like he’s been missing it for longer than he’s been alive, too. 

  
  


“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth, Lucas. I was afraid of losing you and I let fear get the best of me. I hated being Hades for so long, I thought you would hate me for it, too.”

  
  


Lucas’s face turns grave. 

  
  


“I understood why you didn’t tell me at first. I was a fucking asshole to you, to everyone. You didn’t owe me a secret that could wreck your life if it came out, we were strangers. Especially since I gave you a lot of reasons to believe I could have turned you over to the Fates. I just...I wished you could have told me sooner, when we became friends.” He clenches his jaw. “That’s not the reason I’m most angry at you, though. Like...what the fuck, Eliott. You sent me that elixir, and you didn’t even tell me that if I were to drink it, you would die. I almost did it, too, until Alexia stopped me. Do you fucking think,” his voice starts to raise itself now, “that I would feel anything like free and happy if I was responsible of your death ? Ever ?” 

Eliott feels his cheeks burn with shame. Said like that, it sounds very bad. “I didn’t...think about it. I wasn’t sure what would happen to me. I just didn’t want to impede your choice.” He says softly. 

“You fucking moron,” Lucas curses. “I can’t make a fair, right choice if I don’t know how it impacts you. What happens to you, it matters to me, alright ? Get that into your thick skull. Even when I’m angry at you.”

Eliott feels his eyes fill with tears. He hates this - that he hurt Lucas, that he acted so erratically, that he didn’t consider the consequences. He wants to curl into a ball and hide from the entire world, but he owes Lucas better.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice thick and choked. “I didn’t think about me. I just...I just hated the idea I made you feel cheated and trapped. I wanted to prove to you that I…”

  
  


“I’m sorry too,” Lucas says, and Eliott can see he is crying too. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I’m sorry you thought that the only way you could get to me was to fucking risk everything and…” his voice breaks. “I’m sorry if I made you think your life was worth less than my anger.” 

Gods, no. He doesn’t want Lucas to blame himself for his stupid decisions. 

“I’ve always had a shaky grip on life,” he whispers. “I just...didn’t think I deserved you, deep down. I think. I thought it would be easier to...It would be better for you if...like, before we got together at the farm, I still thought it would be better for me to leave once the ghost issue was solved. And,” he continues, even though uttering the words is painful, “I thought you would be happier if you could get a new start far away from me. I just… I don’t know what it’s like to be good for someone, Lucas.”

Lucas makes a pained noise. “You can’t make that decision for me. You can’t. You can’t just decide that I would be happier without you. I love you, and I want you in my life, and nobody is making that decision for me. Not Hades and Persephone, not the Fates. And not you either. Do you get that ? It hurts me, when you don’t care for yourself,” he continues, voice bursting at the seams with love and worry. “You are everything to me, and you have to take care, alright ?”

  
  


Eliott nods slowly. Gods, this hurts. His eyes are all blurry, so he closes them. 

  
  
  


“I don’t know what it’s like to be you,” Lucas whispers. “I’ll never know. I can’t decide for you to...but I want to understand. I want to be there for you. We will figure it out together. You’re not alone anymore, okay ? You’re not alone.”

  
  


Those words unlock some deep and primal wound within him, and he bursts into tears, and when he opens his eyes, Lucas’s gaze on him is so full of love and care he has to hold himself not to explode from sheer emotional intensity. He is feeling everything at once right now, and it’s a lot. And yet, somehow, he can’t bring himself to wish he were anywhere else, because, deep down, he knows he is meant to go through this, and it’s unlocking so much within him.

“I want to try,” he whispers, his voice small. “I love you so much, Lucas.”

  
  


Lucas smiles at him through the tears, and puts a finger under his chin, pulling his head up. “My Hades,” he says, voice full of wonder. “I am so lucky it was you all along.”

  
  


The acceptance in those words sends him into a fresh fit of sobs, and he feels absolutely ridiculous, but then Lucas kisses him, and he forgets everything else. 

  
  


This is what it means to be human, he thinks, just as his godly predecessor discovered so long ago. To be frail, and flawed, and terrified, and to root around in the dark with little idea of where the right path is. To be susceptible to changes so deep they can turn your whole world upside down. And yet, in the end...this is where the sacred is truly found. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah FINALLY THEY TALKED AAAAAH
> 
> also, monster ladies am i right ?????
> 
> after this chapter, I am going on a bit of a hiatus with this fic until I publish chapter 18 of Les Diamants Sont Eternels. After that, we will be right back to finish this fic, first with a chapter of fluff and recovery, and then we are getting straight into the endgame drama. I have some absolutely crazy stuff planned and it's going to be one hell of a ride <3 
> 
> in the meantime, take care of yourselves <3 and don't forget to tell me what you thought of this one as always ^^


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